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’im; ’urry up.” 

(Page 112) 


“ ’Alo-o-o ! I’ve found 






























PREFACE 


I N THESE days of strikes and the incessant con- 
tentions of labor and capital, especially in the an- 
thracite regions of Pennsylvania during the last fif- 
teen years, it is interesting for the general public to 
know the exact living status of the parties concerned, 
who the miner is and what his home life is like, the 
opinions and lives of honest officials, the ruling spirit 
of operators, the principles put in practice by un- 
scrupulous hirelings, principles that are the generators 
of strikes which afflict all classes and threaten the so- 
cial fabric of the state. 

I have endeavored to give, in fictional form, facts 
that I have gleaned from actual experience during a 
residence of twenty years in the coal regions. I have 
told the story of a mining village as I know it, and 
have striven to be perfectly impartial toward miners 
and their employers, non-sectarian, non-political, and 
non-denominational, in the handling of the subject. 
The miners, bosses, operators, and other characters 
of the tale are living to-day and thus, of course, I have 
used fictitious names. It is more of a reality, how- 
ever, than a fiction. A simple, unvarnished story of 
an actual anthracite mining village — its life — its 
opinions — its sorrows — its joys. I cast it forth upon 
the world, trusting that more of good than evil will 
materialize from its publication. 

MATT. STAN. KEMP. 


t 


CONTENTS 


I. Mayoton and Number One Slope .... 7 

II. Teaching the Young Idea How to Shoot . 25 

III. The Company Store 35 

IV. Red Jerry and Number Two Slope ... 42 

V. A Common Miner’s Home 60 

VI. Working Half Time 71 

VII. The Jokers of Number One 79 

VIII. Operator Hoyt and Superintendent McCue . 86 

IX. A Number One Tragedy 94 

X. The Rescue of Mike Gusha 103 

XI. Gossip 116 

XII. Mismated 124 

XIII. Boss Tom’s Last Lesson 131 

XIV. The House “Forninst the Breaker” . . . 140 

XV. Operator Hoyt and Owen Gwynne . . . 147 

XVI. A Short Chapter of Some Consequence . . 154 

XVII. The New Regime 160 

XVIII. Sowing the Teeth of the Dragon .... 167 

XIX. The Same Old Story . 173 

XX. Two Changes of Fortune 183 

XXI. Applying the Screws 192 

XXII. Mary Dolan’s School 204 

XXIII. Choir Practice 211 

XXIV. Office Scenes 217 

XXV. Philip Phillips' Home 225 

XXVI. A Porch Assemblage at Big Bill Smith’s . 232 

XXVII. The Strike 242 

XXVIII. Organizing _ 260 

XXIX. Home Opinion on the Strike 271 

XXX. Among the Operators 288 

XXXI. The Italian Plot # 295 

XXXII. Sic Semper Tyrannis 306 

XXXIII. The Plot Revealed 320 

XXXIV. The Widow McGlyn 337 

XXXV. A Change in Boss Tom’s Opinions . . . 346 

XXXVI. Sermons 357 

XXXVII. Another New Regime 367 

XXXVIII. Boss Tom Has Trouble 379 

XXXIX. Festivities 390 

XL. Sunshine 398 

XLI. In After Years ... 404 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘ ’ Alo-o-o! I’ve found ’im; ’urry up.” 

‘ Oh, Mr. Boss Mike, my Mike, him in slope! 

‘ Ye would make a liar out of me, would ye? ” . 

‘ I know whom you want, but he is not here.” . 


PAGB 

Frontispiece 
” . . 102 
. . . 198 
. . . 316 


CHAPTER I. 


MAYOTON AND NUMBER ONE SLOPE. 

R ED-OCHERED, unpretentious, yet with some 
semblance of order, its slaty roofs and diminu- 
tive vine embowered porticos kissed by the rays 
of a morning sun, on a miniature plateau environed 
by low lying hills whose summits were crowned with 
nodding scrub pines, slumbered the little mining vil- 
lage of Mayoton, as if loath to awaken from the leth- 
argy of the night. 

It was Junetide and the glory of Spring had come, 
proclaimed by the balmy freshness of the air, perfumed 
by the fragrance of rhododendron and wild honey- 
suckle blossoms. The sun at first content with glanc- 
ing through the pine trees at length arose above its 
forest screen lighting with merry glow, a million tinted 
diamonds in the shape of dew drops that gleamed and 
scintillated on shrub and sward, and whitening various 
thin serpent like columns that emanated from kitchen 
chimneys. Southward from the store and offices of 
the Company and eastward of the public road, which 
it darkly shaded, ran a small forest of maple, oak and 
pine trees, from the midst of which gleamed alabaster- 
like, its color enhanced by the emerald of its surround- 
ings, a small village church, its infant spire almost ob- 
scured by the jealousy of enveloping foliage. West- 


8 


BOSS TOM. 


ward from the public road, parallel to it and facing 
the forest and the rising sun, was a row of dwellings 
more spacious than the ordinary. Though red- 
ochered like the others, they were larger and had a 
certain air of genteelness which was augmented by the 
presence of gardens of sixty feet frontage, adorned 
with sundry flower plots and green sward, in some 
cases Kentucky blue grass, kept closely cropped. It 
was evidently the dwelling place of Mayoton’s men 
of quality, and such indeed it was, for here lived mine 
foremen, bosses, and other high officials to such a 
number that, in mining parlance, it was called “Qual- 
ity Row.” 

The noise of a shutting gate broke the stillness of 
the morning, and from the third garden appeared the 
figure of a stalwart, muscular looking man, clad in the 
ordinary habiliments of the mining class, viz. : blue 
drilling trousers and blouse, boots, and cap with min- 
er’s lamp. He was a man of about forty years of age 
and to judge by the heavy shoulders and sturdy frame 
must have weighed at least a hundred and eighty 
pounds. There was a pleasant, clean-shaven coun- 
tenance under the peaked cap, — a countenance strong, 
yet frank and sincere, and lighted up with a wondrous 
pair of honest blue eyes, indicative that the owner was 
as true and trustworthy as heaven itself. 

With quick active step he passed over the common 
in front of Quality Row and entered the shadow, 
etched darkly by the trees along the public road, and 
then emerged into the mellow sunlight that danced 
merrily through a rift in the foliage overhead. As 
if held spellbound by the enchanting scene of the 
morning, he paused for a moment, and gazed at the 
hills robed in budding greenness, dappled here and 
there with the hues of the mountain laurel and honey- 
suckle blossoms. Then monstrous and colossal, its 
dark seamy sides a little dilapidated with age, looming 
up in the distance like a slumbering, prehistoric sau- 
rian, the great coal breaker, surrounded by banks of 


BOSS TOM. 


9 


refuse coal, met his vision. There were gleams of 
sunshine on its innumerable, grimy windows, that 
touched up their sooty panes with bright pencilings 
of beauty. 

“Beautiful,” said the person to himself and yet in a 
half audible tone, and then flinging his head up, he 
sniffed the air as if his soul reveled in its freshness. 
A robin began to warble and twitter in a tree near by 
and attracted his attention. 

“Aye, I ’ears ’ee,” said the man with a smile. 
“Thee’rt saying that Old Tom too, ought to be prais- 
ing God for the works of His ’ands. And thee’rt 
right too. ’Tis a beautiful world that the Faather has 
given us to live in. There we ’ave the hills, and trees, 
and singing birds, and hair like this to breathe. Yes, 
e’en they old black coal banks and breaker, God some- 
’ow or other can make beautiful. Ah, thee’rt a pretty 
bird and make me think of what the preacher said 
yesterday, — ‘out of the mouth of birds and sucklings 
thou hast perfected praise’ — no, ah wadn’t that. Ah, 
I ’ave it, — ‘out of the mouth of babes and sucklings’ — 
anyhow a babe and a bird are somewhat alike. But I 
must ’urry on. Men must work and God be thanked 
for it.” 

Old Tom Penhall hastened forward and in the 
midst of his tramp, as if profiting by the song of the 
robin, he too burst forth into song. 

“Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem, 

Wached in the blood of the Lamb.” 

The voice was a pleasing baritone and though the 
singing was not loud, yet there was as much fervor 
and joyousness as in the warble of the robin. 

He ceased singing as he crossed the bridge that 
spanned the turbid sulphur creek, for in the distance 
was a crowd of miners near the oil house, and the air 
was rent with distant murmuring as of angry alter- 
cation. A shadow as of a cloud passed over Boss 
Tom’s face. 

“The peace of God’s world is often broken by the 


10 


BOSS TOM. 


angry passion of man,” he murmured as he quickened 
his steps. 

Around the oil house at the top of the slope was 
assembled a mass of miners and company men, anx- 
iously scanning a notice tacked to the oil house door. 
Some were clad in garments of sooty blackness ren- 
dered so by long service in the mines. Others wore 
clean, blue-drilling trousers and blouses. All had 
attached to their hats or caps small miners’ lamps, 
some unlighted, others gleaming palely in the sun- 
beams. In the center of the group, overtowering by 
a head and shoulders the majority of those present, 
was a stout, young looking man clad in blue drilling 
washed almost to whiteness. There was a faint trace 
of reddish brown beard, still in its embryonic stage, 
around the big red neck and heavy chin, and under 
the large felt hat that surmounted his head glowed 
a frank, florid countenance, at present expressive 
more of indignation than complacency. He was bus- 
ily scrutinizing the before mentioned notice. 

“Rade it out loud. Bill, so we kin all hear what the 
blatherskite sez,” said Pat O’Donnel, a spare raw- 
boned Irishman. 

“Big Bill, him tella all about it,” said Tony Luccaque 
in a low tone, to a few Italians near by, giving them at 
the same time a gesture to keep silent. Tony, a little 
swarthy Italian, was a mule driver in the mines and 
was generally considered the leader among the Italian 
element and was held in much esteem on account of 
his sobriety and intelligence. 

Big Bill Smith, the engineer, the tall young man 
already mentioned, pushed back his large felt hat and 
began to read in a loud voice the notice, which was 
nothing less than a reduction in wages. There were 
dark scowls upon the countenances of some and mut- 
tered oaths were freely uttered. The company men 
were especially indignant as the reduction mainly af- 
fected them. 

“A blooming shame,” said Big Bill. “They lower 


BOSS TOM. 


11 


the wages but they don’t lower anything else ; they 
never think of cutting store prices. Five per cent, off 
my wages and all men paid by the day! That’s en- 
couraging! How do they expect us to do our duty 
and be honest when they show us that our interest is 
always secondary to theirs?” 

“McCue is a good man and there must be some 
rason for the cut,” said O’Donnel, his anger a little 
mollified to know that the miners were not affected 
much. 

“I’m glad that ah doant hurt we, although ah es too 
bad for any buddy to ’ave a cut,” said little Dicky 
Curnow, a short, little English miner who had been 
peering very anxiously at the notice, but now looked 
very relieved. 

“They take it off of you in the powder,” said Mike 
Clyde, the pumpman, a sandy haired, Scotch American. 

“They’re after charging too much for the powder — 
to be shure. It ought to drop fifty cents a kag at 
laste,” said O’Donnel, with a slight return of indig- 
nation. 

“They’re in for the siller. Operator must have a 
new steamboat or summer home, ye ken,” resumed 
Clyde with a fine touch of sarcasm. Clyde was a 
genial, simple, jovial hearted soul but there were two 
other things that were always noticeable since he 
entered the mining life of Mayoton. He never drifted 
into the Scotch dialect except when in an angry or 
sarcastic mood, and a second thing for which he was 
distinguished was a strong affection for Big Bill. 
Superintendent McCue had often said that Clyde was 
Big Bill’s barometer. 

“Me buy hat in town, costa fifty cents ; me buy him 
in Company store, him costa ona dollar,” piped in Tony 
Luccaque. 

“Right you be, Tony, they know how to put the 
screws on,” said others. 

“Here comes Boss Tom. Let’s hear what he says,” 
said Big Bill. 


12 


BOSS TOM. 


“ ’Ow are ’ee, Bill. Good morning, Pat. "Elio, 
Tony/' said the boss, old Tom Penhall, responding to 
the various salutations. “What’s up? What are ’ee 
all scowling and cussing like St. Michael’s Cormoran 
for?” 

“Reduction in wages, Tom,” said Bill. 

Boss Tom approached the oil-house notice, but 
before he began to read, accosted Bill. “ ’Ere, Bill, les 
’ave a chaw of baccy will ’ee, afore I begin to read.” 

The engineer shoved his hand into the pocket of his 
blouse and brought out a paper bag, much worn and 
soiled with use, and handed it over to Boss Tom, who, 
after sampling the contents liberally, began to read the 
notice. His countenance took on a more serious look 
as he perused the notice and when he was through he 
shook his head. “Too bad, too bad, that.” 

“It is dirty mane bad,” asserted Mike Gallagher, 
one of the timbermen affected and his remark was 
echoed by the others. 

“Mr. Tom,” said Tony, “why wages cut? You 
know ?” 

“Hi doant knaw, my lad.” 

“Will flour be less for to pay, Mr. Tom?” asked 
Adam Bogel, a broad faced Hungarian mule driver. 

At any other time this remark of Adam would have 
elicited a smile at least from the English speaking 
miners present, but a reduction was too serious a thing 
to laugh over. Boss Tom only shook his head. 

John Jones and Jack George, timbermen, began to 
swear under their breath, in which they condemned 
to oblivion a certain “skinflint superintendent” as 
they called him. 

Boss Tom whirled around in some indignation: 

“Men, doant swear like that. I doant like to see a 
reduction any more than you do, but ’ee can’t better 
it by cussing. McCue is as honest and fair a superin- 
tendent as we ever ’ad and there must be some good 
reason for the cut. Wait a bit and les see what the 
cut’s for,” and then turning to the engineer, “Come, 


BOSS TOM. 


13 


Bill, lower us down. We ’ave but a few minutes to 
begin work.” 

The miners and timbermen clambered into the wait- 
ing car at the slope-mouth and, while some were 
lighting their lamps, others continued the conver- 
sation. 

Big Bill walked into the engine house, grasped the 
big lever, turned on the steam, and soon the great 
building was throbbing with turning machinery. 

Down, down, down, glided the car into the very 
bowels of the earth, the flickering miners’ lamps, grow- 
ing dimmer and fainter until at length they vanished 
in the gloom of that black, slanting, tunnel-like hole 
called the slope. At the foot of the slope miners and 
timbermen hastened to their respective places of work. 

The mines of Mayoton were regarded as the most 
successful and scientifically worked mines in the An- 
thracite region. There were two basins, stretching 
from east to west, and but a few hundred yards apart. 
The most southern basin was excessively broad and 
flat, in some places the vein pitching about thirty de- 
grees while in other places it was almost horizontal. 
The north basin was on the contrary much narrower 
and deeper, the vein penetrating the earth from both 
sides at an angle of about fifty degrees and meeting 
at the bottom, a distance of four hundred yards from 
the surface. 

The coal in both basins consisted of a section of the 
Mammoth vein and underneath it the Hickory vein, 
between which veins, however, there was upwards of a 
foot of slate. In both basins the coal varied in thick- 
ness — in some locations being forty to eighty feet; in 
others narrowing down to six and eight. 

The slope down which Boss Tom and the men rode, 
was a narrow, slanting tunnel-like hole driven down 
on the bottom strata of the coal vein in the north basin 
to a depth of a hundred yards. There were two tracks, 
one for the descending empty cars and one for the 
ascending loaded ones. At the foot of the slope there 


14 


BOSS TOM. 


was quite a space for car tracks. Two gangways or 
horizontal, tunnel-like holes, similar in size to the 
slope, ran east and west, penetrating the vein and con- 
necting the “breasts” or rooms of the miners with the 
slope bottom. 

From the gangways diverged, at right angles and 
pitching with the vein, the breasts of the miners. 
Each miner had a breast of coal, — that is the right to 
blast and dig all the coal from a part of the vein twenty 
feet wide, as high as the vein is thick, and reaching 
from the gangway to the surface or to the gangway 
of the lift above. 

Since it was not deemed sufficiently remunerative to 
sink two slopes the coal on the other side of the basin 
was reached by a tunnel from the foot of the slope 
through the aqueous rock separating the veins. The 
gangways on the other side of the basin, the south side 
as it was called, had the same general trend from the 
end of the tunnel as did the gangways from the foot of 
the slope. The bottom of the slope presented a cur- 
ious sight. Twinkling gleams of light appeared in all 
directions, appearing and then again disappearing with 
the persistency of the will-o'-the-wisp. They were 
the flames of the miners' lamps, ever present on the 
caps of miners and timbermen. Whips cracked in 
the distance, and soon mules attended bv their respec- 
tive drivers were upon the scene. There was the 
sound of rattling chains and shouts of “Pet-a-ho — Gee 
up Boxer — Bill, gee, gee.” The appearance of mine 
foreman Tom Penhall, Old Tom, as he was frequently 
called, was the signal for renewed shouts and cracking 
of whips. 

“Come, boys, run in your trips. Breaker hungry. 
Eat a lot of coal today,” said the good-natured boss to 
the six drivers that were upon the scene. 

The six boys, or rather four boys and two men, re- 
sponded to Tom's orders. One driver had been con- 
stantly busy pulling the empty cars, as they came 
down the slope, up on the turn-out at the entrance of 


BOSS TOM. 


15 


the tunnel. With the exception of the latter, who had 
but one mule, all the drivers had a team of four mules 
hitched one before the other in tandem shape, the fore- 
most one having attached to his collar a large mule- 
lamp to illuminate the way. Tony Luccaque hitched 
his waiting team to eight empty cars and dashed off 
into the tunnel. He was followed by Adam Bogel and 
others, until only two remained. 

“ TJrry up, Jimmy,” said the boss. 

A tall slender lad with a good-natured, merry Irish 
face, Jimmy O’Donnel by name, leaped on the front car 
of his trip, cracked his long whip, and with a shout of 
"Gee up, Bill,” dashed off with a clank of chains and a 
rattle of wheels into the east gangway. The turn-out 
was devoid of cars and the remaining driver, George 
Penryn, was compelled to wait for a minute or so. 
George was an American lad of English descent. There 
was a wealth of black curly hair upon his head and a 
darkness of eyes that, united with a soberness of dis- 
position, made his countenance unusually attractive. 
George could shake off his soberness at times and then 
those dark eyes would sparkle with a merry elfish 
glow, and at other times, when something would occur 
to stir up his anger those same orbs would flame and 
burn like that of a “Pirate,” as Boss Tom would say. 

Soon came the rattling of cables and the whir of 
rapidly revolving car wheels, and the desired number 
of cars was at the bottom of the slope. 

“Here you go, George. Here’s your trip,” said Ned, 
the turn-out boy, as he hauled the eighth empty car up 
on the turn-out. 

“Come, lad,” said Boss Tom. 

George caught hoM of the stretcher and coupler (a 
piece of wood, three feet wide, between the traces, 
having a large iron hook in the center with which to 
attach the foremost car). 

“Gee, Nell, gee!” 

The mules, as if thoroughly understanding the com- 
mand, turned to the right. 


16 


BOSS TOM. 


“Pet-a-ho, Nell." 

There was a similar turning to the right, and then 
followed a metallic clank as the coupler fell into place. 

“Pull out that sprag, Ned." 

The turn-out boy obeyed. 

“Gee up, Nell ; away Boxer !" and there was a crack- 
ing and swishing of a whip and the mules startled out 
of their drowsiness, trotted off the turn-out and swept 
into the darkness of the west gangway. 

Old Boss Tom leaped on the bumpers of the rear 
car as it passed him and as they swept along through 
the long cavernous gangway, above the rattling wheels 
and resounding hoofs could be heard the resounding 
voice of the good old Methodist boss. 

“Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem, 

Washed in the blood of the Lamb." 

On run the mules. The big mule lamp lights up the 
darkness, revealing on either side glistening walls of 
solid anthracite except where was depicted the ever 
changing, fantastic, grotesque silhouette of the ad- 
vancing trip. The shadow of Boss Tom, giantlike and 
distorted, was incessantly swallowed up by the gloom 
in the rear. A door-boy in the distance perceives the 
rapidly approaching team and opens wide a door. 

“Hello, George; 'morning, Tom." 

“Hallo, Bob," says the driver. 

Tom smiles and waves his hand. 

Crack, goes the whip ; on, dash the mules ; bang, 
goes the closing door. 

“Do de do, do de do the New Jerusalem." 

“Whoa!" The mules stop at the command of the 
driver and Boss Tom gets off to have a chat with Pat 
O’Donnel. 

“A car for you, Mr. O’Donnel," said George, and, de- 
taching one from the rear, he leaped on and with a 
crack of the whip and a shout the trip dashes on up the 
gangway. 

“'Ow’s the hair in your place, O’Donnel?" 

“All right, Tom." 


BOSS TOM. 


17 


“ Adloo, Penryn,” said Tom to a miner who had just 
emerged from a breast next to O’Donnel’s. The miner 
addressed gave a similar salutation to Tom and by the 
resemblance in dialect it was evident that he was of 
the same country. 

“Ow’s the coal cutting ?” 

“Braave, Tom. Ah cuts middling well though I 
’aven’t tried un this morning.” 

‘‘Mine cuts harrd and it takes a dale of powder. I 
think its getting harder all the time/’ said O’Donnel. 

“Ah may get a bit easier after ’ee get up farther,” 
said Tom encouragingly and then turning to Penryn 
said, “Penryn, boy, be careful, will ’ee ; your place es 
dangerous. The top es bad.” 

“I’ll try to watch her, Tom.” 

“That’s right. Be careful. Next place inside you 
get.” 

“A good boss is Tom,” said Penryn, as Boss Tom 
disappeared up the gangway. 

“Best I iver had,” said O’Donnel, “if he does sing 
some, but it’s better a singing boss than the blathering, 
chating ones they have in the Lowland mines. They 
chate the men to plaze the company. Now Tom’s no 
nayger driver like the Meadow Mine bosses ather. 
He’s fair to the men and to the company. He is so.” 

“Right you be, butty,” responded Penryn. “Tom 
ought to be superintendent, so he ought. He’s a prac- 
tical miner and ’as books on mining. He’s got a sight 
of learning for the little schooling ’e ’as.” 

“Oh, Tom, he knows all about mining. He could 
tach the other bosses, but McCue is a good superin- 
tendent. We can’t complain of the loikes of him.” 

“Ay, to be sure. Ye’re right there, but I must go up 
and begin work,” said Penryn and so they separated, 
each climbing the manway of his respective breast to 
the place of work. 

In the meantime Boss Tom continued his tramp up 
the gangway, stopping here and there to have a chat 
with miners and timbermen, until he finally came to 


18 


BOSS TOM. 


the face where a crowd of contract men were vigor- 
ously extending the gangway. Philip Phillips, a rotund 
little Welshman, had charge of this contract work and 
was busily directing his men. 

“Philip, you contractors will make a hundred dollars 
each, this month,” said Tom. 

Philip paused a moment, pushed back his cap and 
mopped the perspiration that stood out in beads on his 
bald brow. “We ought to, Tom, but I can tell ’ou we 
won’t. There is such a heavy powder bill, you know. 
We work hard and the coal is hard to cut. See here, 
Tom,” and Philip held out his arm, clad in a shirt 
sleeve wringing wet with perspiration. “Pretty wet, 
that. That shirt was dry this morning. They ought 
to lower the price of powder, Tom. It’s too much.” 

“Well, I doant knaw what they make, boy,” said 
Tom. 

“Pat Lynch said the office man told him they bought 
it for a dollar a keg and they sell it to us for a dollar 
eighty-five.” 

“Well, lads, if I could lower it I would but I aren’t 
superintendent or hoperator; ’ere, Fatty, give us a 
drink, — where’s your bottle?” 

“Fatty,” a little sabaceous man, whose countenance 
was perpetually wrinkled with good humor, handed 
over a tin bottle to the boss. “Fatty” was not his real 
name. That was more euphonious, being Frederick 
Bismarck-Schoenhausen Book, which sufficiently de- 
monstrated the German ancestry of his parents. Fat- 
ty’s real name was a bad misnomer however, for his 
broad rubicund face contained none of the delicate, 
sensitive features of the great Frederick, and as for 
the Iron Chancellor he resembled him in nothing but 
his determined energy, which was directed more in the 
line of good living than empire extension however. 
His surname was likewise inconsistent for he had no 
predilection for books. “Book, Book, Book,” said 
Wilt, the store clerk, when he first saw him, “it should 
be Keg, Keg, Keg.” Yet Fatty, though easy going and 


BOSS TOM. 


19 


humorous, had courage and a will at times which 
needed not the stimulus of the keg. 

“There’s beer in it, Tom,” said he with a wink at 
Phillips as he handed over the bottle for he well knew 
Tom’s aversion to strong drink. 

“Ah, ’ee can’t fool me like that,” said Tom who had 
observed the wink and also noticed the fumes of hot 
coffee as he extracted the stopper. “I’ll risk it, Fatty,” 
and forthwith he drank from the tilted vessel. 

“Doant drink anything else, lad,” said the boss as 
he returned the coffee bottle, “it’s better than all the 
beer made.” 

“What do ’ou think of the grade, Tom?” asked 
Philip. 

“All right, Philip, but put another hole in this side. 
You are too narrow. We want plenty of room for the 
mules to pass atween the cars and the prop. Is that 
the hole for the next leg you’re digging, Pat?” 

“Yes,” said Pat Lynch, one of the contract men. 

“Too nigh the track. Set it back farther.” 

“Going to fire now, Tom,” cried Fatty, who had 
filled a hole with powder and had the squib ready to 
light. 

“All right,” said Philip, and he and Tom and the 
others hastened out of the gangway to a place of se- 
curity. 

“Fire, fire, fire-e-e!” cried Philip. 

Fatty touched the squib with the flame of his mining 
lamp, shouted “fire !” and ran to join the others. A few 
seconds elapsed and then there was a loud, sullen 
boom. A dense cloud of powder smoke and a few 
flying pieces of coal proclaimed the hole to be a good 
one. 

“A good hole, Philip,” said Tom. 

The contract men went into the face and Boss Tom 
retraced his steps back to the manway, descending to 
the second lift. In order to mine the coal deeper in the 
basin, midway in west gangway a slope penetrated one 
hundred yards farther down. It was down the narrow 


20 


BOSS TOM. 


manway of this slope Boss Tom pursued his way. On 
the way down he almost collided with sandy haired 
Clyde, the pumpman. 

“I didn't see you, Tom. Your lamp’s nearly out.” 

“So it es,” said Tom who mechanically took his cap 
off his head to inspect his lamp. “Give us some hoil, 
lad.” 

“All right, Tom, we don’t pay for it.” 

“That’s why I doant ask miners. They pay for it,” 
continued Tom as he was engaged in filling the almost 
empty lamp. “Any water in the bottom?” 

“Dry as a top, except the sump.” 

“Much obliged for the hoil, lad, and now I must 
’urry on,” and Tom continued his way down to the 
bottom of the second lift. After visiting the gangways 
and some of the breasts he again ascended to the first 
lift, where, as he emerged into the west gangway, 
shouts and resounding blows met his ears. 

“Killa de lazy mule! Beata him head off!” ex- 
claimed in a shrill treble the voice of O’Donnel’s Italian 
laborer. 

“Is the dommed baste going to kape us all day 
waiting fer cars,” roared O’Donnel. 

“Gee up, Boxer! Git on!” shouted George Penryn, 
frantically cracking his whip, but it was in vain for 
evidently the loaded cars being too much for the mules’ 
strength they not only despaired of moving them, but 
were protesting vigorously and as only a mule can 
protest. Boxer, the giant mule of the team was kick- 
ing, jerking and plunging; first he made a dash for- 
ward, then finding himself held in check by the traces 
he let fly both hind feet that sounded on the front of 
the first car like the blows of a battering ram. Again 
and again he rushed forward urged on by the snapping 
whip and as often restrained, he kicked most viciously. 
The front of the first car was cracked and marred with 
the imprint of iron hoofs. The miners withdrew to a 
respectful distance for death lurked in those wicked 
legs. 


BOSS TOM. 


21 


“ ’Old on, lads, doant beat the mules,” shouted Tom 
as he hurried to the scene. “Ho, Boxer. What ails 
them, George?” 

“Wheels not greased and are rather stiff. Watch! 
Tom, Boxer is mad.” 

“Let them rest a bit, George.” 

After a brief period of waiting Tom approached 
Boxer and patted him gently on the neck. The mule 
as if realizing the nearness of a friend offered no oppo- 
sition and seemed to like Tom’s kindly advances. Tom, 
as he petted him, began to talk in an ordinary tone 
partly to the big mule and partly to the man, which 
both apparently understood. 

“No use to beat them ’less they need it. It is not 
they mules’ fault. They cars are stiff. Boys forgot 
to grease them.” 

Boxer now being thoroughly quieted Tom said, 
“Now, lads, les help them a bit. Come, help push,” 
and the boss having walked to the rear, put his own 
big shoulders to the car. Other men inspired by his 
example, gathered around and made ready to unite 
their efforts. 

“Now,” said Tom. 

Crack went the whip. “Gee up, Boxer, Nell, Dick!” 
The mules strained and pulled; the miners shoved 
with their united strength ; the wheels creaked ; there 
was a rattle of chains and slowly the cars moved on. 

The hard place was passed and now being on a 
slightly down grade, Tom leaped on. 

“Never abuse the mules, lads, cause they can’t pull 
but pitch in and ’elp them,” cried Tom as they 
moved down the gangway. 

“All right, Tom,” said the men as they returned to 
their work. 

“It’s my belafe, butty,” said ‘O’Donnel to his Ital- 
ian laborer, “that Boss Tom has missed his calling 
shure.” 

“ ’Ow’s that?” asked Penryn who had overheard the 
remark. 


22 


BOSS TOM. 


“He ought to hev been a praste. He’s that kind 
loike to man and baste,” responded O’Donnel in much 
admiration. 

“And him always a chanta like Father Angelo; him 
singa all de time like de priest in de mass,” added the 
Italian. 

“Tom’s a good un and a good boss ; ye’re right 
there,” said Penryn. 

Meantime the cars rattled on, Tom Humming as he 
rode, his old favorite, “Sweeping through the gates.” 
At length he ceased singing to question George. 

“Many cars, George, at the bottom?” 

“Full.” 

“How many trips?” 

“Seven.” 

“That’s brave, George.” Everything that was good 
in Tom's estimation he called brave. The bottom of 
the slope was reached and Tom leaped off. Simulta- 
neously with their arrival at the bottom, Jimmy 
O’Donnel brought in from the east gangway a full trip. 

“ ’Ow many trips, Jimmy?” 

“Eight.” 

“Good boy,” said Tom approvingly and then added 
to himself, “He and George are the best drivers that 
we got and take care of the mules. Too bad to cut 
their wages. It wouldn’t do for me to say all I think. 
I couldn’t do the men any good and I’d get my walk- 
ing papers sure. But I wish that hoperator could see 
the men work. He doesn’t knaw the men or ’e wadn’t 
do it. I doant knaw why ’tis ; he ’pears to be kind like 
and McCue es ’onest, I knaw that. Well, I ’ope the 
cloud ’as a silver lining; but they won’t stand it long. 
I mined myself and knaw what et will be — a strike 
some day and then look out.” Such were Tom’s re- 
flections as he wended his way through the tunnel to 
visit the gangways on the south side. On the way he 
met Tony Luccaque. 

“Well, Tony, lad, where’s Adam?” 

“Him went in with trip, Mr. Tom.” 


BOSS TOM. 


23 


“Give us some hoil, lad.” 

Tony gave Tom some oil and then the latter worthy 
continued his way to the south side. In the east south 
side gangway a group of timbermen, Mike Gallagher, 
Jack George and Tom Jones, were putting up timber. 

“Give us a lift, Tom.” 

“All right, boys.” 

They all got under the heavy timber stick, eight 
feet long and eighteen inches in diameter, and with 
main strength placed it in position upon the top of the 
two legs or upright pieces. 

“There, Mike,” said Tom, “If ’ee wouldn’t drink so 
much thee could lift un on thyself. Save tha money, 
lad, and build a ’ouse.” 

“Avic, begorra, Tom, how can I save money? The 
Company store gits nearly all. When ye pay five 
cents more for butter a pound, six cents more for 
chase, four more for mate and twinty-five more for 
flour than ye pay elsewhere. Mush, musha, ye can’t 
save much. Bad ses to the store, sez I, and to the 
operator that cut me wages.” 

“Why doant ’ee deal elsewhere?” 

“Oh, you know, Tom. I’m nearly always in debt in 
the store and I can’t git credit anywhere else. My 
family is large, Tom. I could save tin dollars a month 
if I could buy in town. Dhrinking is the only pleasure 
a man has.” 

“Thee’rt in a tight pinch, lad. I was only joking 
about the drink, Mike,” said Tom. 

“Oh, that’s all right ; I knew it, Tom. Come, boys. 
Let’s have a piece. Have a piece of pie, Tom?” 

“I doant mind but les see the time,” replied the boss 
and suiting his action to the word he hauled out a large 
silver timepiece. “Eleven o’clock ; I guess I ’ave time.” 

The timbermen sat down and took the lids off their 
dinner buckets. Mike handed his bucket to Tom who 
took out a piece of pie. 

“Raisin pie, that’s good, Mike,” said the boss as he 
took a bite and entered into the conversation which 


24 


BOSS TOM. 


consumed some little time. At length Tom arose to go. 

“Now, lads, a drink and a chaw of baccy. ’Ere, Jack, 
where’s your bottle?” 

Jack handed his bottle to Tom who took a few 
swallows from it and then accosted Jones. 

“Now, Jones, a chaw of that plug; I forgot my baccy 
this morning.” 

“It’s Frismuth, Tom,” said Jones as he handed 
around a small paper bag. 

“Ah, better still; ’and it ’ere; I’d rather chaw that 
than plug.” 

The men resumed their labors and Boss Tom con- 
tinued his rounds, visiting gangways and breasts until 
the dinner hour came when he retraced his steps to the 
bottom of the slope, there to sit down with others and 
satisfy the cravings of the inner man. After dinner 
he informed the drivers, Jimmy O’Donnel and George 
Penryn, that he desired to see them that evening at his 
home, which invitation they wonderingly accepted. 

All the afternoon the work went on. Miners blasted 
and loaded, drivers cracked their whips, cars rattled up 
and down, laborers perspired and toiled, until the 
whistle blew at six o’clock when with a rush and a 
cheer, miners, timbermen, laborers and boys, some 
slow with weariness, others more actively, clambered 
the manway to breathe the air of heaven and seek the 
comforts of their homes. The day’s work was ended. 


BOSS TOM. 


25 


CHAPTER II. 

TEACHING THE YOUNG IDEA HOW TO SHOOT. 

H ALLO, Jimmy, are ye ready?” shouted George 
Penryn as he stood waiting outside O’Donnel’s 
front gate. George had not forgotten Boss Tom 
Penhall’s request and so he had hurried through his 
supper. He was a little in doubt at first whether to 
wear his Sunday clothes or his ordinary every day suit, 
but at length decided in favor of the latter, to which, 
however, he added a crimson tie, the delight of his 
boyish heart and which seldom saw the light of day, 
except upon the Sabbath. A June rose-bud adorned 
the lapel of his coat and he now stood awaiting Jimmy, 
his countenance wearing a peculiar expression of 
mingled impatience and anticipation. 

“Hallo, hallo-o-o-o-o, Jimmy, Jimmy!” 

There was a banging of a rear door and then a 
slim figure appeared around the corner and joined him 
at the front gate. 

“Hallo yerself,” said the person who was none other 
than Jimmy. 

“What in the name of sense have ye been dawdling 
about?” 

“The most important or one of the most important 
things in me life,” philosophically responded Jimmy. 

“And what’s that?” asked George stirred to some 
interest by the emphatic tone of his companion. 
“Guess.” 

“Reading?” 

“Nope.” 

“Writing?” 

“Nope.” 

“Study of any kind?” 


26 


BOSS TOM. 


“Guess again.” 

“I give it up.” 

“Eating me supper, to be shure.” 

“Ah, get along with ye. How’s that the most im- 
portant ?” 

“Wan can do without reading and writing but how 
can wan do widout eating, shure ?” 

“Eating is not the most important,” retorted George, 
“now — ” 

“To be shure, it’s only wan of the most important,” 
interrupted Jimmy, “but I’d like to know what yer 
doing wid a red neck-tie and a rose-bud whin ye’r 
going up to see ould Tom. But mebbe ye’re not going 
to see him intoirly, eh?” and Jimmy nudged his com- 
panion and allowed his freckled face to relapse into a 
grin. 

“Ah, go ’long with ye, but I wonder what Tom 
wants with us.” 

“I have just been a wondering meself what he wants 
with the likes of driver boys,” responded Jimmy as 
they both walked up the road to the store. “I might 
have fixed up a little better meself, but thinks I we’re 
only going up to see ould Tom and it didn’t matter.” 

Both lads, having little education, had fallen into the 
habit of using bad grammar and many localisms pecu- 
liar among boys of the section. 

Continuing in conversation, both lads passed around 
the office of the company and approached “Quality 
Row.” Assistant Superintendent Moore was seated 
in a comfortable porch chair on the portico of his home 
and nodded to the lads as they passed by. As they 
approached Tom’s gate there was heard the sound of 
an old melody played upon a piano and a voice of no 
common sweetness that drifted through the half 
opened windows. 

“That sounds like Mary Dolan’s voice,” said Jimmy 
in some trepidation and he lagged behind, a little reluc- 
tant to proceed. 

“Guess ye wish ye had yer red neck-tie on now, eh?” 


BOSS TOM. 


27 


said George and he returned the nudge that Jimmy 
had given him in their starting out from home. 

“Listen once/’ said Jimmy as they paused for a 
moment and leaned upon the fence. 

“Oh, don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, 
Sweet Alice, with hair so brown ; 

She wept with delight when you gave her a smile, 
And trembled with fear at your frown.” 

“Say, if that isn’t nice ! Ah, but ye ought to hear her 
at our church in the vesper service a singing in the 
Magnificat in Animo Deo; I tell ye that she sings like 
an angel, she does that.” Jimmy was a good Roman 
Catholic and had always attended the vesper service; 
the thought now occurred to him to invite George. 

“Ye’ll go sometime, Georgie, and then ye’ll hear her 
for yourself?” 

“Alice ” said George as if thinking of the song. 

“Ah, what are ye blathering about? Ye must be 

mooning over that song. Mary Dolan, I mane Ah, 

by the powers, ye’re thinking of Tom’s Alice,” and 
Jimmy burst into a great roar of laughter and suddenly 
the singing inside ceased. 

“There, ye have done it,” said George, his olive 
cheek deepening with a glow of exasperated confusion 
and his dark eyes kindling, as Tom would say, with the 
look of a “pirate.” “They’ll think that we have been 
laughing at them, ye big booby.” 

Two young girls appeared upon the portico and 
nodded gaily to the lads at the gate. George, followed 
reluctantly by his friend, entered the gate. 

“How nice of you to encore us like that ; we didn’t 
expect to have such an appreciative audience,” said 
Alice Penhall and there was a merry good-natured 
twinkle in her winsome blue eyes that made the boys 
think of her father, Boss Tom, in his most pleasant 
moods. There was something of contrast and yet 
something of similarity in these two young girls. 
Both were the daughters of ordinary miners, who 
had worked their way up to positions of trust and au- 


28 


BOSS TOM. 


thority under the Mayoton Coal Company by their ex- 
perience, integrity, and skill. There was the same 
youthful freshness and attractiveness, but of different 
variety. Alice with blue eyes as joyous as a sunbeam 
and with a mass of brown, auburn hair, deep and low, 
lying in ripples on a smooth, broad brow, had the glad 
disposition characteristic of her father. Her com- 
panion, Mary, lithe, graceful, and taller, was dark and 
of a more sedate, pensive appearance. In the demeanor 
and carriage of both there was much of the innate 
nobility, eloquently suggestive and prophetic of a fu- 
ture refined womanhood. 

“And shure ye will not be after thinking we were 
making light of the music,” said Jimmy, cap in hand, 
“we were just talking about angels when we heard the 
singing, and that made me think of what Father Phe- 
lan said, that talk of the divil and his horns will 
appear.” 

“Oh, Jimmy,” said Mary, reprovingly, “Father 
Phelan said nothing of the kind ; he said talk about 
angels and they are near you.” 

“The same principle,” answered Jimmy reassuringly, 
“and he was right, talk about thim and they are near,” 
and Jimmy cast a roguish glance at Mary. 

“You’re a sorry rogue, Jimmy,” said Mary with a 
trace of heightened color in her cheek. 

“I trust we didn’t interfere with the singing,” said 
George. 

“Not at all,” said Alice ; “we were just going to stop 
anyway. Won’t you come up and have chairs,” and 
she drew forward two portico chairs invitingly. 

“I have an idea,” said the irrepressible Jimmy, as 
they accepted the invitation, “that George would like 
to be after singing that Ben Bolt song himself, shure,” 
and his features wore their accustomed merry grin. 

“’Ere, ’ere, whas all the racquet about?” exclaimed 
a heavy voice inside and the broad form and pleasant 
features of old Tom Penhall appeared at the door. 
“Ah, me dears, I thought summat ’ad ’appened to keep 


BOSS TOM. 


29 


my singing birds from warbling, but it’s all right, since 
I can’t do business and ’ear music at the same time ; 
now you two boys come inside, will ’ee, and the maids 
will excuse ’ee when they know we ’ave business,” so 
saying Boss Tom led the way into the sitting-room. 

The lads were not so eager to follow him for a 
present pleasure in the form of a tete-a-tete with Mary 
Dolan and Tom’s daughter was to their minds infin- 
itely better than a future indefinite good or 
evil in the shape of an interview with Boss 
Tom Penhall. Once in the little sitting-room reluc- 
tance was replaced with interest and curiosity. Both 
lads had cause to remember that scene as long as they 
lived and to remember it with a blessing upon the head 
of kind old Tom, their benefactor and friend. 

The sitting-room was utilized as an office and as a 
general living-room. A desk, a roll top, was in one 
corner having above it a small book-case in which 
could be seen some of Tom’s chief treasures, books 
upon mining, engineering and mathematics. A bright 
red figured carpet covered the floor. Tom was a lover 
of colors and especially red. “Rud,” as he called it, 
“is a cheerful color and makes one feel glad,” he often 
averred. An olive hued shade veiled with snowy white 
curtains and rendered golden by the setting sun’s rays, 
covered the window and tinged the apartment with a 
mellow subdued glow. 

Boss Tom sat with one elbow upon his desk, the fin- 
gers of one hand running through his scattered brown 
locks, now turning gray, while with the broad toil- 
hardened fingers of the other hand he was tapping 
gently the arm of his chair. His brow was wrinkled 
and he was apparently in a brown study. 

“It’s the sack this time,” whispered Jimmy to his 
companion in some dismay. 

“No, it’s not the sack, lads,” said Mr. Penhall, kind- 
ly, for he had overheard the remark, deeply absorbed 
as he was in his reverie. Shaking off his former man- 
ner, he gazed at the lads keenly, and after some scru- 


30 


BOSS TOM. 


tiny said; “No, it’s not the sack, but I'll ’ave to sack 
’ee some time and I’d like to ’ave ’ee prepared for it.” 

“Why, we haven’t done anything wrong, have we, 
Mr. Penhall?” said George, fidgeting a little on his 
chair. 

“No, that’s just it; you are too good drivers to be 
driver boys long. Do ’ee see? Now ’ow hold are ’ee, 
Jimmy?” 

“Sixteen.” 

“And you, George?” 

“The same, Mr. Penhall.” 

“Did it hever occur to ’ee that in a few years you’ll 
be men, my lads,” continued Tom kindly, “and then 
what will ’ee do, for ’ee can’t be driver boys?” 

“Miners I s’pose or timbermen,” answered Jimmy, 
his freckled face brightening up now that there was 
no danger of getting discharged. “Dad were speaking 
this evening about taking me into the breast for I’m 
quite big enough,” he added surveying his slim figure 
with some satisfaction. 

“Miner nothing,” responded Boss Tom in some ir- 
ritation ; “you can’t be drivers, ’cause that’s left for the 
’Ungarians and for boys, and as for miners and timber- 
men, you ought to ’ave ’igher ambition than that. 
Bright boys like you ought to study, I tell ’ee, and 
strive to get up ’igher.” 

“Might be a tacher or a lyyer/’ suggested Jimmy 
humbly. 

“Both of ’ee are better suited for something else that 
pays just as well ef not better,” said Boss Tom. 

“Might be farmers,” suggested Jimmy timidly. 

Boss Tom burst into a roar of laughter in which the 
lads feebly joined. 

“Farmers are all right and their work is ’onerable 
but you are not suited to be farmers. Bright lads like 
you are weth your experience in mining are fitted for 
mining work, but,” and here Boss Tom became 
serious, “I doant want lads of your talents to be ordi- 


BOSS TOM. 


31 


nary miners. They’ll need bosses and mine foremen 
when old Tom Penhall is gone, do ’ee ’ear?” 

. Both boys nodded and looked serious. 

“And they’ll need superintendents when McCue es 
gone, and coal hoperators when Hoyt es gone,” con- 
tinued Tom, while both lads stared in awe and amaze- 
ment. “Why, there’s Hoyt now, who when ’ee was 
your hage didn’t ’ave a cent to bless ’imself with, and 
yet today ’ee ’as millions and a palace at Long Branch, 
and a steam yacht and no one knows ’ow much more, 
and what one lad can do another can do. Now I knaw 
what ’ee are thinking about ; ’ee are thinking why hold 
Tom es not ’igher up ’imself, and I’ll tell ’ee why. It’s 
cause I was like you boys and ’ad no ’igher ambition 
than an ordinary miner’s life until I was up pretty well 
in years. Now ’ee must study to get up. I found 
that out before I ’ad got far. Now ’ow much school- 
ing ’ave ’ee got?” 

Both lads’ eyes that had been dancing with delight, 
during the latter part of the boss’s lecture and exhor- 
tation, now became subdued and serious. 

“Not much, Mr. Penhall, I’m afraid,” said George; 
“you see I was put to work In the breaker when only 
ten years of age. I kin do fractions, though.” 

“And you, Jimmy?” 

“I don’t know,” said Jimmy doubtfully, “whether 
I have much. I stuck on fractions, I did so. It was 
Tacher Mooney, bad ses to him, that made me quit 
school. He said : 

“‘Now, how much is one half, Jimmy?’ 

“ ‘A half of what, sir?’ sez I. 

“ ‘Anything at all, suhre,’ sez he. 

“ ‘An apple?’ sez I. 

“ ‘Anything at all, shure,’ sez he. 

“ ‘Now,’ sez I, ‘if ye tell me what it is yer wanting 
the half off,’ sez I, ‘I can tell ye.’ 

“With that he up and come down, and grabbing me 
by both ears and almost shaking the teeth out of me 
head, he said: ‘Ye’re a beautiful bye and a bright 


32 


BOSS TOM. 


scholar, so ye are. Kin ye tell me how many halfs of 
a blockhead ye are?’ By that time me timper was up, 
not being used to having me ears pulled ’cept upon me 
birthday and even thin in not such a murdhering fash- 
ion, and so I sez, T kin tell ye, sir, so I kin, I’m wan 
half and ye are the ether.’ By that time his timper 
was up too, and he whaled me within an inch of me 
loife, the ould blaggard, and I left school and niver 
whint back.” 

Both Boss Tom and George burst into a roar of 
laughter, Jimmy’s manner and countenance being so 
irresistibly droll. 

“Well,” said Boss Tom, “we’ll ’ave to make up for 
lost time. If you agree, I’ll lend ’ee books and ’elp ’ee 
all I can to pass the mine foreman’s examination. You 
can study in the evenings and come to me when ’ee 
gets stuck. Now, what do ’ee say, my lads?” 

To say that the boys accepted is putting it mildly ; 
they were enthusiastically delighted with the kind- 
hearted boss’ proposition. 

“Now,” continued Tom, “the first thing es arith- 
metic.” 

Both youths said that they had books upon that sub- 
ject at home and Tom advised them to review their 
former knowledge and come to him on the following 
Monday night. 

“Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem, 

Washed in the blood of the Lamb.” 

Clear and sweet rose the words of the old Sunday 
School melody accompanied by the music of the piano. 
Boss Tom arose with an exclamation of pleasure. 

“Come, lads, we must take part in that ; our business 
is ended tonight,” so saying the boss led the way into 
the parlor. 

“Ah, father, you must excuse us,” said Alice as she 
ceased playing for a moment and turned around, “but 
we knew that you were about through and thought 
that we would give you a gentle reminder that there 
were more people at home to entertain visitors.” 


BOSS TOM. 


33 


“All right, Allie, my dear, all right, and now les ’ave 
that grand hold tune again, and ef we all can’t sing it 
we can sing dol dol, eh, George, lad?” 

The good old Methodist boss, not pausing for an 
answer, sat himself comfortably in an armchair and 
the piano starting again, they sang. Jimmy didn’t 
sing but sat watching Boss Tom who, leaning back in 
his chair, oblivious to everyone, seemed carried away 
with the melody. Occasionally he would chime in on the 
chorus and in other places, where the words were dif- 
ficult to remember, would hum the melody and at 
times would break forth into a hearty: 

“Dol de dol dol dol de New Jerusalem” with as 
much holy sincerity as a priest chanting a Te Deum. 

“Amen,” he said as they ceased singing; “God grant 
that ah may be sa” 

But the hour was now late and Mary Dolan and 
the two lads prepared to go, in which preparation Jim- 
my was less reluctant than George. 

“I love they boys like a father,” said old Tom to 
Alice after they had departed. “They shant be or- 
dinary, dung-dabbling miners ef old Tom can help it.” 

Alice kissed her father and called him a “kind old 
busybody.” 

“There, there, Allie, run off to bed now; I’m not 
going to ’ave my little singing bird spoilt by late 
hours.” 

In the meantime Mary, Jimmy and George pur- 
sued their way. 

“I tell ye ould Tom is a mighty good man now, he 
is that. To think he is going to tach us,” said Jimmy 
with some emphasis. “If ould Tacher Mooney had half 
his sinse I’d be President of the United States by this 
time. I would so.” 

“You have a lofty opinion of yourself, Mr. O’Don- 
nel,” said Mary with a laugh. 

“Ould Tom has and he’s a fine man,” said Jimmy 
soberly. 


34 


BOSS TOM. 


“He’s a good man and you ought not to call him 
old Tom/’ responded Mary rebukingly. 

“Why, he called himself ould Tom, and thin I’m not 
spaking to his face,” said Jimmy defending himself. 

“And I guess you’ll be calling me old Mary behind 
my back.” 

“ Ton me sowl, no, Mary, but angel Mary, I ” 

“Jimmy O’Donnel, if you talk that way you’re not 
going home with me,” replied Mary indignantly. 

“What do you think George ” but George was 

gone. Absorbed in his own reflections, and knowing 
that room was better than company, he had silently 
deserted. Jimmy stood with a woeful, crestfallen air 
and Mary softening somewhat said : “Of course, Jim- 
my, if you want to go up part of the way with me, you 
may, but then we’re too young to talk foolishness.” 

“Right you are, Mary, me angel, and we’ll talk 
downright, sarious reality. We will so.” 


BOSS TOM. 


35 


CHAPTER III. 

THE COMPANY STORE. 

A LONG, rambling building, red-ochered like 
others, two stories in height and fully a hundred 
feet in length, was the company store. It was 
owned and managed by the coal company, ostensibly 
for the convenience of the miners, but in reality for the 
large additional income that it placed in the coffers of 
the mine owner. An article cheaper in the company 
store than in a local business place was a thing unheard 
of, and one equally as cheap was an exceptional rarity. 
Mayoton’s store was the only one in the village and 
this fact coupled with an indefinable suspicion that 
unless it was patronized, the company would take 
plenary vengeance, insured it much custom. It was a 
general store, replete with articles various and nu- 
merous, from groceries to satin ribbon, and from 
miners’ supplies to a woman’s hat pin. Here would 
come the miners’ wives during the day and at night to 
purchase, bringing always with them the store book on 
which their purchases were jotted down. The heavier 
the bill, the better pleased the manager. Sometimes 
a family ran in debt through sickness or other 
cause; then came the helpless struggle, at times suc- 
cessful after months of weary labor, at other times 
defeated ; despair and indifference filled the heart and 
existence dragged on, the miner working, the company 
handling the money, the family receiving mere food, 
all desire to improve life’s conditions irretrievably lost. 

It was the evening after Boss Tom’s kind proposi- 
tion to the driver boys and the building was brilliantly 
illuminated and thronged with people. It was “Turn- 


36 


BOSS TOM. 


Books,” magic word to the miner’s heart and momen- 
tary panacea for the curse of debt. “Turn-Books” was 
a day in each month when the miners and their fam- 
ilies could purchase store goods and liquidate the in- 
debtedness thus incurred out of the ensuing month’s 
pay. “For the convenience of the miner,” asserted the 
manager, but it was really originated to inveigle the 
simple earth toiler into buying more goods, and he 
was pleased with the idea that it wouldn’t lessen his 
pay for that month. It wasn’t anything more than the 
old idea, so common to deluded humanity, of sacrific- 
ing the future for the present. 

It was an animated scene. Miners in their clean 
clothes, miners’ wives, boys, Hungarians, Italian wo- 
men with bright silk handkerchiefs for head-gear and 
Hungarian women in boots, were scattered all over the 
immense building. Old Tom Penhall and Peter Dolan, 
the breaker boss, were in the shoe room conversing 
upon the reduction in wages and kindred topics. 

“I’m afraid, Peter, that there’s going to be trouble 
if this reduction goes on. I tell ’ee they men won’t 
stand it long; of course we ’ave the interest of the 
company to look after and must keep still, but there’s 
no ’arm a talking ’atween ourselves.” 

“A bastely shame, Tom, so ’tis, but what are the 
men saying? Ye have better chance of hearing thim 
than I have.” 

“It appears that the men are ’aving their confidence 
in the fairness of the hoperator shaken. This es the 
second reduction that they ’ave got and they doant 
knaw the reason for it. I doant knaw what the price 
of coal es at tide-water that there should be a cut ; I’m 
glad, ’owever, that it only affects timbermen and com- 
pany men.” 

“Do ye think they’ll strike, Tom?” 

Tom shook his head. “They’ll not strike now ’cause 
they can’t afford it, but I wish hoperator and super- 
intendent could ’ave ’eard the men today a cursing and 
swearing. I tell ’ee it would hopen their heyes.” 


BOSS TOM. 


37 


Here the conversation was interrupted by a loud 
laugh from Adam Bogel, the Hungarian driver, who 
was helping a “greenhorn” Hungarian select a pair of 
boots. The newcomer had been trying on various 
sizes, large and small, and had been apparently debat- 
ing between two pairs, one that fitted him very well, the 
other several sizes too large. Each were “douberie,” 
good, in his estimation and he had asked Adam in his 
native tongue, the cost. 

“Him want to know the cost?” Adam had asked 
Lew Wilt, the store clerk. 

“Same cost for both,” Lew had said. This being 
told the newcomer, he had promptly drawn on the 
larger pair saying something in the meanwhile that 
caused Adam and the clerk to laugh. 

“Whas the matter?” asked Tom, as he and Dolan 
approached. 

“Him say him take big boots cause both cost the 
same and him get more for the money,” said Adam 
with a grin, and both Tom and Dolan laughed heartily, 
but the Hungarian, undismayed, tramped off in his 
newly purchased treasure. 

Here Fatty Book entered the shoe room followed by 
Edward Penryn. The recent cut was the chief thing 
of conversation. “It’s all right,” Penryn was saying 
to Fatty, “there’s too much coal in the market, and it’s 
overstocked.” 

“Whas that, Penryn, boy?” Tom asked in an eager 
tone. 

Penryn repeated the information that he said 
he had gleaned from an office man, who had it on good 
authority. 

Tom and Dolan were much relieved, especially the 
former. “Thank God for that,” he said fervently. All 
present looked in amazement at Tom. 

“And why do ye say that, Tom?” asked Penryn in 
some perplexity, for he well knew Tom’s good feelings 
toward the men and could not reconcile it with his 
utterance. 


38 


BOSS TOM. 


“Not for the reduction, boy, but for the cause being 
known. The men are fair enough and there wouldn’t 
be any trouble ’alf the time ef they would knaw why 
the wages are cut. Ef there es some good reason 
they won’t kick, not they. I thought McCue was too 
just a man to cut for nothing,” said Tom, and his face 
assumed its old accustomed, pleasant expression. 

“Right ye are there. McCue is a good man. He is 
that,” affirmed Dolan, emphatically. 

“Come, Tom, there’s a barrel of new cider in the 
cellar. Let’s go down and sample it.” 

“Thee’rt always in for cider or some other watery 
stuff for tha stomach,” responded Tom laughingly, 
and with many a joke they all adjourned to the cellar, 
Fatty leading the advance. 

“Here it is,” said Fatty, as he turned the spigot of 
a barrel and drew off a liberal supply which he, ignor- 
ing the wants of others, immediately began to swallow 
in one or two gulps. Then there was an exclamation 
and something more. 

“Phew — achew — phew — ah-a-a-a!” howled Fatty, 
retching and flinging the pint measure from him. He 
placed both hands affectionately over his stomach and 
twisted his fat countenance for once lugubrious 
through fear into the hideous features of a Chinese war 
god. 

“Whas the matter?” said Tom in some alarm, while 
they all gathered around him. 

“I had forgot to tell you,” said Wilt, the clerk, who 
had followed them into the cellar, “that that first 
barrel contains vinegar ten years old.” 

A peal of laughter went up from all with the excep* 
tion of Fatty who doubtless was too sour within to 
be merry without for the time being. The right barrel 
was found and Fatty was mollified by what he termed 
“the real thing.” After all had sipped a little of the 
fresh, sweet cider, which was unfermented, they as- 
cended to the main store room. 

“Here, Mr. Brame,” said Dolan to the store super- 


BOSS TOM. 


39 


intendent, “charge Fatty with a quarrt of vinegar and 
three quarrts of cider ; shure, he’s almost foundered.” 

“All right,” said Brame, a heavy bearded man at the 
desk, “we’ll put it down to Mr. Frederick Bismarck- 
Schoenhausen Book.” 

“Better put it down to Fatty, for he won’t know who 
it is if ye give him his full name,” said Dolan. 

The large main store-room was now thoroughly 
crowded with Hungarian and Italian women, the latter 
making purchases of great quantities of salt fish, sar- 
dines, macaroni and beans which seemed to be the 
chief part of their diet. The Hungarians were mainly 
interested in dress goods. Some were examining, 
with childish admiration, the large red roses in a 
calico print with a background of bright green. One 
party had bought a piece of purple cashmere for a 
basque and another piece of red cashmere for a skirt 
but it seemed that none were satisfied as to the prices. 

“Too much money. Too dear. In town cost only 
half so much,” were the various comments. 

“Here, Wilt,” rang out an American voice in some 
anger, “rub this out. Don’t ye charge me with them 
pipe stems. I’m no Italian.” 

“Who bought the macaroni?” cried Wilt. The 
uproar, the jabbering of foreign tongues, the perfect 
babel of voices and the strong odor of garlic, thor- 
oughly disgusted Boss Tom. 

“Come, Dolan, les get out, will ’ee? We can’t hear 
our own voices and the smell of garlic es sickening.” 

Both bosses strolled outside and wended their way 
down the village street toward the “Stripping.” The 
Stripping was an immense part of the coal works, 
where the vein had outcropped. There was only about 
twenty feet of earth between the top coal and the sur- 
face and this had been stripped off, and now there was 
an immense pit of several acres in extent and fully a 
hundred feet in depth. Here the men worked night 
and day, during the day loading the coal into cars, and 
at night, under the glare of electric arc-lights, blasting 


40 


BOSS TOM. 


and removing from the surface of the vein the rock, 
hauling the same up a great plane whence it was un- 
loaded on large banks. 

It was a beautiful starlit night and there was the 
peculiar freshness of June in the air. On the way they 
met Alice and Mary. 

“Ah, me dears, and where are ’ee going on this 
night?” asked Tom in his kind, fatherly tones. 

“Why, how nice, father! Now we shall have com- 
pany. We wanted to go down to the Stripping works 
but didn’t like to go alone. But you’ll go with us, 
father — you and Mr. Dolan?” coaxed Alice, in her 
most winning tones. 

“May be ye would rather have someone younger 
than we are, shure,” said Dolan with a humorous wink 
at Tom. 

“Now, father, you know that we would rather have 
you and Mr. Penhall than the best men living,” said 
Mary reproachfully. 

Tom smiled with pleasure and they all continued 
to the Stripping that was already in view. 

There the scene was most interesting. Huge ma- 
chines, called “steam shovels,” were digging and 
shovelling up the earth with dipper-like concerns, and 
loading it into cars; steam drills were jumping up and 
down upon the rocks ; cars were flying up and down 
the plane. 

“Fire, fire-e-e-e,” came a voice from a distance. 

“Are we all safe, Tom?” asked Dolan. 

“All safe ’ere,” affirmed Tom. 

All noise in the pit now ceased. Men could be seen 
running to places of security. The arc-lights were 
lowered into empty barrels to prevent the glass globes 
from being damaged. Three men now appeared with 
lights and hastened here and there, setting fire to 
pieces of fuse. Soon in the darkness of the pit twelve 
little spitting fire lights appeared. There was silence 
for a minute or two then, — bang, bang, bang, bang, in 
quick succession went four holes in the rock loaded 


BOSS TOM. 


41 


with powder ; this was followed by seven more ; then 
a great report like the detonating roar of a battery of 
artillery and rocks and stones were elevated to the hea- 
vens. A great cloud of smoke rolled forth from the pit 
like the vapor of an eruptive volcano and then came 
the rattle and clatter of falling fragments. 

“Wasn’t it grand?” exclaimed Mary. 

“Sublime !” said Alice. 

“Fourth o’ July,” said Dolan. 

The noise was now renewed. The pit was teeming 
with life. Like demons of darkness the sooty work- 
men toiled and joked, laughed and swore, and were 
sworn at in turn. The noise increased. The steam 
shovels sent up clouds of sparks, while the clattering 
of chains, the choo — choo — chough of escaping steam, 
the rattling of car-wheels, the cracking of drivers’ 
whips, the shouts and oaths of the boss, Pat Develry, 
swearing at the Italian drivers and their hoarse cries 
urging on the straining mules; — all made the place a 
veritable pandemonium. 

“Develry spakes strong like,” said Dolan. 

“Oh, let’s go away,” said Alice in a whisper, “it’s 
frightful.” 

“That must resemble hell,” said Tom in an awed, 
solemn tone. 

“Or rather purgatory, for there be some good min 
down there,” added Dolan softly. 

Tom didn’t answer for it was contrary to his custom 
to start up any argument on religious doctrines on 
which he knew there could be no agreement between 
Dolan and himself. Tom was a good sincere Metho- 
dist, and Dolan was an equally sincere Roman Cath- 
olic. Both respected each others’ opinions and valued 
each other as good men should. 


42 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER IV. 

RED JERRY AND NUMBER TWO SLOPE. 

S COTCH the car!” 

The scene was in a gangway of Number Two 
Slope. The speaker was a red-haired miner of 
average build and a certain assertiveness of disposition 
that augmented the strength of his forceful counte- 
nance. There was nothing pliant or vacillating about 
Jerry Andra, or Red Jerry, as he was more often called. 
His well formed nose and protuberance of chin and 
grey blue eyes, not a complacent blue like boss Tom 
Penhall’s, but a scintillating one, seemed to inspire one 
with the same thought as the Colonial Rattlesnake 
flag with its motto, “Don’t tread on me.” Jerry and 
his laborer had just pushed a car up to the chute, prep- 
aratory to loading, and he had requested the driver to 
scotch the car, (that is to place a piece of wood under 
the wheel to prevent it from running away down the 
grade). There appeared to be some bad feeling be- 
tween the miner and driver for the latter leaned in a 
dilatory way against the gangway wall and leered in- 
sultingly at Jerry. 

“Scotch the car, will ’ee,” exclaimed Jerry in some 
irritation while he still held the car in position. 

“Scotch it yerself,” said the driver with an oath, “I 
do no scotching fer the likes of ye.” 

“Let ’er go, butty,” said Jerry to his Italian laborer 
and, both simultaneously relinquishing their hold, 
away went the car rushing down the grade of the 
gangway with ever increasing speed. Crash, crash, 
clang came the sound of rending timbers and broken 
iron as the car collided with the others of the trip, and 
intermixed everything in a mass of chaotic ruin. 


BOSS TOM. 


43 


“Your business to scotch the car, my man,” said 
Jerry to the driver who was white with rage and 
trembling with passion. 

“Ye d ,” and the driver ripped out a volley 

of profanity, in language forceful and inelegant, that 
made the air more sulphurous and blue than after a 
powder blast. 

“What did ye do that fer?” and again came the 
string of volcanic utterance which Jerry promptly 
stopped with a slap of his horny, coal-blackened hand, 
full on the mouth of the swearing, wrathy driver. The 
latter sprang at him and brought the heavy mule whip 
athwart Jerry’s head and shoulders, and Jerry retali- 
ated with a right hander that sent the driver stumbling 
over the gangway ties into the turbid ditch water 
alongside. He arose half dazed and limped off mut- 
tering curses under his breath. 

“What’s the row, butty?” asked Ned Thomas, a 
medium sized miner with a pleasant face, who had 
come down from the neighboring breast on hearing 
the shouts. “What’s the row?” 

“That limb of Satan and tool of Bruice, the driver, 
wouldn’t scotch the car and so we let ’er go. He tried 
to hit me with his whip and I knocked him down fer 
his impudence, — the rogue. I suppose he’ll scotch it 
the next time. What with the cheating of Boss Bruice, 
and his truckling to the company at the expense of 
the men, and the impudence of his drivers, work in this 
slope is becoming unbearable and damme if I’m going 
to stand it, Ned, much longer,” said Jerry in honest 
indignation. 

Ned nodded his head. “It’s not right. Bruice 
cheated me in yardage last month and though I sent 
out some time ago sixty cars of as pure a coal as ever 
went out of this mine, six of them were docked.” 

“Well,” said Jerry, “I’m drawing out my coal and 
I guess today will see the wind-up of it. There’s not a 
half a car of gob in the whole of it and if they dock me 
much they’ll ’ear from me, if I know myself. I’m 


44 


BOSS TOM. 


going to see at dinner time about it.” Thus the con- 
versation went on until the bobbing light of the mule- 
lamp was seen in the distance, indicating the approach 
of more cars. 

“There’s the trip coming back,” said Jerry, “and I 
guess to prevent more trouble, I had better go up the 
breast and shove down the coal.” Jerry disappeared up 
the manway where, a short time afterward, the laborer 
followed him. 

“Is there a car down there, butty?” asked Andra of 
the laborer. 

The laborer shrugged his shoulders expressively. 
“Him say no cars for us. No get more cars. Driver, 
him say so.” Jerry stared for a moment at the stut- 
tering Italian and then his eyes gleamed wrathfully in 
the darkness like the orbs of a tiger in a jungle gloom. 
Answering not a word he plunged down the manway 
to the track and then rushed down the gangway track 
to the foot of the slope where at the entrance of the 
gangway he met the driver and the trip. 

“Why don’t I get cars?” he asked, with a betrayal of 
impatience in his tone. 

“Ye get no more cars to load,” answered the driver 
sullenly. 

“If I get none, no one else gets any,” said Jerry and 
forthwith grasping the foremost car and exerting all 
his strength, he threw it off the track. 

There was a volley of oaths from the angry driver, 
who, with the assistance of another man, put it on 
again. Again Andra as quickly and as expeditiously 
threw it off. As often as it was replaced it was dis- 
placed until the driver, secure in the patronage of 
Boss Bruice, sent for him. 

There was now a great uproar in the gangway. 
Miners and timbermen, impatient for cars, thronged 
from all sections of the gangway and there was much 
excited talk. Some took the part of the driver and 
others the part of Jerry but the latter personage re- 


BOSS TOM. 


45 


mained firm and undaunted at his post, blocking the 
work of half the mine. 

“No man gets his cars unless I get mine,” asserted 
Jerry, and there was something in the steadfast bear- 
ing of this undaunted man and the gleam of his eye 
that warned no one to trifle with him. In the excite- 
ment along stalked the mine foreman, Boss Bruice, 
one of the creatures that make life a burden in mine 
work, that originate strikes, that discommodes and 
menaces a nation and people. 

Large, heavy set, puffed up with authority, having 
the heart of a chicken, the soul of a cormorant, with 
a tongue as bad as that of Mike Develry, a mere trav- 
esty on manhood, was Boss Bruice. 

“Here, here, what’s the row? Driver, drive along 
with those cars. Ah, a car off the track. Why in 

the ” and he burst forth into a storm of oaths, 

the foulness of which was phenomenal. 

“Red Jerry threw the car off the track and stopped 
the trip. He sez no one shall have cars,” said the driv- 
er in justification of himself. 

“That’s a lie,” exclaimed Jerry, “I said, ‘no one 
should have cars unless I get mine/ and neither shall 
they. He refused to let me have cars.” 

“That was because ye smashed the last one ye got,” 
said the driver. 

“That was yer own fault. You wouldn’t scotch the 
car and so I let ’er go. But I want my cars and want 
them scotched too.” 

“Some of you set that car on the track, and, driver, 
get along with that trip,” said Bruice, while his brows 
lowered at Jerry. 

“But he won’t give me my cars,” persisted Jerry. 

“Well, what is that to me,” said the boss, swearing 
at Jerry in turn. 

Jerry’s face was white with rage at this palpable 
injustice. To be sworn at he would not endure. One 
influence within him suggested a conflict with the 
unjust foreman ; another, the continuing of the gang- 


46 


BOSS TOM. 


way blockade. Some men taking advantage of his 
distracted attention placed the car upon the track 
again but for the last time was it thrown off by the 
indomitable Jerry. 

Bruice was angry and with a string of oaths he 
strode forward. 

“I want you to know that I’m running this mine 
and I’ll tolerate nothing like that.” 

“And I want ’ee to know that I’m Jerry Andra, 
miner, and I’ll have my rights or no one else shall, and 
I want ’ee to know something else and that is that you 
are a mean cheat. You are a mean, contemptible 
truckler to the company, cheating the men as every 
man here can prove.” 

Bruice made a step forward while his features 
twitched in anger. 

“Hold on, me hearty, I’m not through yet. I want 
to say that ye can cheat without fear but ye can’t act 
no slave master over me. I allow no man to swear at 
me as you ’ave done, and if ’ee but breathe another 
oath at me,” and here the irate miner took a stride for- 
ward and shook his horny fist at Bruice, “I’ll knock 
they words down thy throat.” 

There was silence in the gangway for the space of 
a moment or two. Bruice had edged back a step for 
though he was vibrating with suppressed passion and 
was larger physically than the doughty Jerry, yet he 
had not the courage or spirit of the indignant miner. 
At length his tongue found its utterance. 

“The superintendent shall hear of this. You can 
consider yourself discharged. This is the last day 
you’ll work in this slope.” He backed off and disap- 
peared up the slope manway. 

“You’ve got it now,” said Mike Lynch, a timberman, 
and a brother of timberman Pat Lynch, in Number 
One slope. 

“I don’t care,” said Jerry undaunted. “I wish I had 
struck the dog and then I would feel better.” 

“It’s too bad that a man can’t get cars,” said Mike, 


BOSS TOM. 


47 


for he sympathized with Jerry as did a majority of 
those present. 

“Thee’ll be out of work, Jerry, boy, and Fm sorry 
for ’ee,” said old Dicky Curnow in quavering tones. 

“I don’t care if I never get a job in the whole mine 
for it. I’ve got nearly all my coal out, so there’s no 
loss to me,” responded Jerry. 

“Ye served the ould blaggard right,” said an Irish 
miner, who had not spoken up to the present time. 
“Fer once in his life he heard what the miners think 
of him. He cheated me in me yardage last month.” 

For fully twenty minutes Red Jerry held his posi- 
tion, blockading the traffic of' the gangway and con- 
versing with the men, and then came McCue, the 
superintendent, and with him Bruice. 

“Now what’s the trouble?” asked McCue, and there 
was a dark asperity in his tone that at first foreboded 
ill to Jerry. 

Jerry explained the whole affair stating about the 
scotching of the car and the refusal of the driver to 
bring him any cars. 

“Is this a true statement, men?” asked McCue, after 
Andra had finished. 

“Yes, that’s right,” affirmed Ned Thomas, Mike 
Lynch and some others. 

“And it is true that you threatened Bruice and have 
been stopping the work of the gangway for all this 
time?” said McCue, but there was not the former as- 
perity of tone. 

“Yes, I stopped the trip for I thought it was unjust 
to allow others cars and not to allow me any. Perhaps 
I shouldn’t ought to have said all that I did but then 
I doant like to be sworn at as if I were a Hitalian, 
and I like to ’ave me rights.” 

“You should have come to me right away when 
there was any difficulty, Jerry. You have stopped the 
running of the mine when you should have come to 
me. Bruice tells me that he has given you your dis- 
charge after today, and he’s right in doing so. The 


48 


BOSS TOM. 


mine foreman is the boss over the slope and there can’t 
be more than one boss and he must be obeyed or 
there’s no use in having bosses, and as for you,” and 
McCue turned to the driver who was grinning and 
sneering with delight to think that Jerry was now 
‘‘catching it,” as he thought, “as for you, driver, if I 
catch you swearing at the miners, or hear of it, you 
get your discharge. I have half a notion to give you 
your discharge now; the idea of a young man swear- 
ing at a miner old enough to be his father. Let me 
hear no more of it and as for the scotching of cars, if 
you don’t want to do that you ought to give up your 
job. It is the driver’s duty to scotch cars for miners. 
If you had done your duty there wouldn’t have been 
any trouble. I shall take the cost of the damaged run- 
away car out of your wages. Now every man go to 
work and you’ll get enough cars I think. Let’s have 
no more trouble of this kind,” and McCue, accompan- 
ied by Bruice, left the scene. 

“Bruice,” said McCue when they had gotten beyond 
hearing distance, “you oughtn’t to deal with a miner as 
with a mule. Their lives are hard enough without 
swearing at them. Little things like that are the fore- 
runners of strikes, and by foolishly not allowing Jerry 
to have cars, you have hindered the mine from work- 
ing for an hour.” 

“If I had known all the circumstances,” said Bruice 
to his chief in a cringing tone, “he should have had 
his cars but it made me mad to think of the car being 
smashed up. It was the driver’s fault but Jerry was 
to blame, too, for he might have scotched the car him- 
self instead of allowing it to run off and be damaged.” 

“That’s true, but now, Bruice, take my advice and 
don’t swear at the men, and things will go on more 
pleasantly. Tom Penhall in slope Number One has no 
trouble at all.” 

All that morning the work went on uninterruptedly, 
and at noon Red Jerry, Ned Thomas and a few others 
went up through an old manway to the surface to eat 


BOSS TOM. 


49 


their dinners in the open sunshine. There, seated on 
logs and bits of rock, these humble sons of toil pre- 
pared to eat their noonday meal, with the sturdy ap- 
petite that labor brings, cracking in the meantime 
merry jokes at each other’s expense. Ned Thomas’ 
youngest brother had brought him a hot Cornish 
pasty, a baked dish of potatoes and meat, so dear to 
the Cornish Englishman’s palate. This the young 
lad had brought from home and had kept warm until 
his brother’s arrival by wrapping it in his coat. Ned 
had God-fearing parents but had married beneath him. 
His parents had strongly objected to his marriage for 
the girl was a poor housekeeper, a poor cook and non- 
religious, and in addition to these things they feared 
that the attachment was a trivial, ephemeral affair. 
But the young man was not to be deterred from his 
purpose. Mother Thomas felt sorry for her boy and 
frequently sent something which he liked to the mine. 

“Ah, pasty,” said Mike Lynch, “give us half, Ned, 
ye can’t eat all,” and he eyed the pasty fondly. 

“All right, Mike,” said Ned as he divided the pasty 
and passed a half over to him. 

“Here’s a piece of cake in exchange.” 

“Thank ’ee, Mike,” said Ned, as he received the 
cake. 

“Who baked it, Ned?” asked Mike between his bites. 
The question came half muffled from between his lips 
like the sound of a fog horn in a gale. 

“Mother,” responded Ned. 

“ ’Ee got a good mother, Ned,” said old Dicky Cur- 
now. “Her bakes good pasty.” 

“You bet,” cried Mike and then turning to Jerry 
he said; “would ye hev hit Bruice had he swore again 
at ye ?” 

“I would,” said Jerry with a flash of the eye, “even 
if I hadn’t my coal nearly all drawn out. I knew I’d get 
the sack for it but McCue wasn’t so hard upon me as 
I thought he would be. He didn’t seem nearly so 
rough when I told ’im all about it. I’m glad that rogue 


50 


BOSS TOM. 


of a driver ’as to pay for the car. That will teach him 
manners to men older than ’imself.” 

“Do ye think ye’ll get all the coal out today, butty?” 
asked Ned. 

“If they keep on giving me cars and they’re doing 
that now,” responded Jerry. 

“And how do ye think ye’ll come out?” asked Mike 
Lynch. ' j 

“I’ll make about seventy dollars this month, that es 
if they don’t dock me too much, and that makes mej 
think that I want to see what they ’ave done in that 
line and I think I ’ad better go and see now,” and Red 
Jerry, who had finished his dinner, departed. 

“Jerry has a fine breast of coal,” said Ned, after Jerry 
had departed, “it’s thick, easy to blast, and the pitch 
is forty degrees, — just steep enough to stand in and 
let the coal rattle down. It’s lucky that he has all his 
coal about out.” 

“Me no make money this month,” said a little Ital- 
ian miner. 

“What’s the matter?” inquired Mike Lynch. 

“Breast run flat, must buggy coal and coal hard, 
slaty.” 

“Well, my place is good; I got it by the yard. It 
runs about the same pitch as Jerry’s,” said Ned 
Thomas. 

“I wish mine was like that,” said old Dicky Curnow, 
shaking his head as if disgusted with his prospects. 
“I got un by the yard and seeing as it were narrer and 
thin-like, I thought ah could maake summat, but now 
ah ’as gone as flat as a nayger’s foot and us ’as to 
shovel the coal all the time. Us can’t maake much 
when us ’as got to be always a shovelling.” 

“Why don’t ye put in sheet-iron and perhaps it 
would run easier?” said Mike Lynch. 

“I got sheet-iron but ah es no good at all. I only 
earned thirty dollars last month.” 

“That’s the trouble,” said Mike. “I used to have a 
breast, nice pitch, and then it went as flat as it could 


BOSS TOM. 


51 


go, and begob me and the laborer were shovelling coal 
all day. That made me tired of breast work. I made 
one month as low as eighteen dollars and then I 
throwed the thing up and I have been a company man 
ever since. If it wasn’t fer the last cut in prices we 
timbermen would make out first rate. But as it is, 
shure, we’re better off than ye breast men afther all, for 
ye don’t know what yer breast will be like above ye 
and how much the cost will be. I’d rather hev some- 
thing certain and ye know what to expect. If every wan 
was as lucky as some, it wouldn’t matter. Now, 
there’s Penryn, always a lucky dog, and Red Jerry. 
He just gets the sack whin his coal is about out and 
he wants another place anyway.” 

“Penryn is a good miner and has good judgment in 
blasting,” said Thomas. “But talking about cuts, we 
don’t have it so hard as the miners and timbermen at 
the Lowland mines. They have to sharpen their tools 
from six to seven, — an hour before work begins, and 
they don’t receive any pay fer it.” 

“That’s contract men and miners,” suggested Mike. 

“No,” responded Ned, “they’re timbermen and com- 
pany men getting paid by the day, and what’s more, 
every man, miner and company man ’as to be at work 
five minutes before seven o’clock. To make certain 
of losing no time the man has to begin before time.” 

“That’s hunjust,” said old Dicky shaking his head. 
“That edent fair.” 

“There’s Red Jerry coming,” said Ned. 

“Did they dock ye much, Jerry?” asked Mike. 

“No,” said Jerry, as he resumed his seat on a bit of 
log. He was evidently well pleased with the 
knowledge. 

“How far is your breast worked up, butty?” asked 
Mike of old Dicky Curnow. Now, Dicky, a good 
Methodist and a first rate miner, had but a moiety of 
scholarship with the single exception of music and the 
Scriptures in which he was proficient. Asked thus for 
the extent of the coal room in which he worked, he was 


52 


BOSS TOM. 


at a loss for an answer. He thought for a moment 
deeply and ran his hand through the sparse grey hair 
that fringed his bald head, like the leaves of an Olymp- 
ian victor’s crown. He finally responded : “Twice the 
length of the pick, the drills and the scraper, I be- 
lieve.” 

“Well, Dicky, cust tell how many feet in a forty 
foot tape?” asked Ned in a joking mood. 

Dicky was such a good-hearted, amiable soul that 
the men delighted in joking him. This last query set 
Dicky to thinking assiduously, and especially since 
it was asked in all soberness. At length he shook his 
head with a smile, “I doant knaw, lad ; thee ’ad better 
ask some un else, cause I beant no scholar.” There 
was a general chuckle of laughter at Dicky’s expense, 
in which he good-naturedly joined. 

“But, Dicky,” continued the irrepressible Ned, “if 
thee aren’t a scholar in arithmetic, ’ee know the Bible 
better than most people, and music too.” 

“Ah, the Bible and music,” said Dicky warmly and 
with pardonable pride, “they are better than hall else 
combined. Now which of ’ee can tell ’ow many sharps 
in the kay of G or ’ow many flats in B ?” 

“Ah,” added Ned in a sober tone, “I can sing but I 
like the Bible stories better than music.” 

“That’s right, boy,” said Dicky, in an approving 
tone. “Thee’s ’ad a good training in the Bible and ’ast 
a good knowledge of it, as ought us all.” 

“Yes,” said Ned, with a knowing, humorous wink at 
Jerry. “I like, now, the story of Jericho going up 
around Jerusalem and the walls falling down, and 
about Moses leading the children of Isaiah through 
the Dead Sea ; now that’s fine.” 

Jerry had been sampling a piece of pie that Mike 
had given to him and, though it almost strangled him, 
he had given vent to a chuckle of laughter. They all 
knew Ned’s proclivity to humor and especially in 
joking Dicky, and they knew that Ned was assuming 
great ignorance to shock the good old Methodist. 


BOSS TOM. 


53 


“Oah, Oah, Neddy, Neddy/’ said old Dicky in dismay 
and horror, “thee doesn’t knaw nawthing — nawthing 
at tall, I tell ’ee. It wasn’t Jericho that marched 
around Jerusalem. That was Joshua that marched 
around Jericho, and it wadn’t the children of Isaiah 
nor the Dead Say nuther. That was the children of 
Israel and the Red Say. Oah, Oah, Neddy, Neddy, 
thee’rt a disgrace to thy training.” The old man shook 
his head and gazed in unutterable pity at Ned much 
to the amusement of Red Jerry and the others. 

“What’s the prospect for the new concert, Dicky?” 
asked unabashed Ned, between the bites of his pasty. 
“I hope it will be a good one.” 

Dicky, instantly mollified, forgot his former indig- 
nation. “Concert? Why all’ll be a good one and be 
fine. Us’ll ’ave thirty singers and expect to sing hold 
country hanthems and Motzart’s Twelfth Mass and 
Handel’s Messiah. Oh, all’ll be grand and no mistake.” 

“It would be much better if you would put Jerry 
there and me in it. I can sing and you can too, can’t 
’ee, Jerry?” 

Ned, though an American, had English parents and 
in talking with Dicky and other Cornish Englishmen 
frequently dropped into the dialect that they used. 

“Yes,” said Jerry a little slowly and doubtfully, “I 
suppose I could with a little practice.” 

Dicky shook his head and said they had enough 
singers but he would like to have them attend as it 
was for the Methodist choir’s benefit, of which he was 
the leader. 

“Well, I don’t know whether I’ll have the change 
at that time,” said Ned. 

“Can’t get in wethout a tecket and teckets cost 
money,” answered Dicky. 

“I tell ’ee, Dicky, I like music, and I mean to hear 
that concert, somehow or other, and if you don’t let 
Jerry and me come in free, we’ll prent teckets of our 
own,” asserted Ned emphatically. 

Dicky laughed a merry cackling laugh, for he knew 


54 


BOSS TOM. 


that Ned enjoyed music, and his great desire to hear 
the concert so expressed, at least, gratified the old man. 

'‘Never you fear, you’ll ’ear the concert for ’ee ’ll 
buy teckets, when the time comes, like other men,” 
said old Dicky gleefully. 

There was the sound of a whistle in the distance, 
the one o’clock whistle, and the men, arising, de- 
scended the steep manway to the gangway below. 
When they reached their places of work the driver 
had already brought in the trip and was preparing to 
pull out the full cars that had awaited there since noon. 
The mules had been hitched to the foremost car but 
the leader, no doubt overworked, refused to pull. 
The driver swore and struck it again and again with 
his whip, but, with mulish persistency, the animal 
refused to stir. Another driver now approached and 
they both united their efforts until the mule sank down 
upon the track. The drivers were in a rage but paused 
for a moment, during which interval they examined 
their whips, the crackers of which had been frayed 
off by their vigorous blows. These dreadful instru- 
ments of animal torment were constructed of plaited 
strips of leather five feet long, an inch wide and a 
quarter of an inch thick and fiendishly adorned at the 
end with a stinger or cracker of heavy cord. The 
crackers were replaced with new ones and again the 
work of flaying began. Swish, swish, crack, crack, 
went the whips wielded by stout energetic arms, ac- 
companied by oaths long and deep. By the light of 
the glaring mule-lamp great welts could be seen on the 
animal’s back from some of which the blood was 
trickling in crimson streams. The whips ensanguined 
with gory streaks writhed and whirled, hissed and 
flashed like fiery serpents in the murky gangway air. 
The mule groaned like a human in distress but made 
no attempt to rise, and insane with baffled rage, the 
drivers began to use the heavy wooden whip-stocks, 
beating the animal over the head until there was very 


BOSS TOM. 


55 


great danger of gouging out the beast’s eyes. Such 
indeed appeared to be their mad purpose. 

“I’ll beat his d eyes out,” screamed one. 

“What a shame,” said old Dicky, in a burst of honest 
indignation ; “let the mule go and take him to the 
stable, boys.” 

“None of your business,” answered the chief driver 
in some wrath. 

“Yes, but we’ll make it our business,” said Red 
Jerry, “take that mule off to the stable; we can’t stand 
that any longer.” 

The driver had already tasted some of Jerry’s mus- 
cular strength and only scowled at him. 

“I guess that’s right, butty,” said the other driver 
who dreaded another scene like the morning affair. 
“I guess that’s right and we had better take him off to 
the stable.” 

The driver addressed, whether he feared Jerry or 
whether he had no desire to have a damaged mule 
mentioned on his pay check as well as a broken car, 
grimly complied. 

The traces were loosened and the animal feeling 
liberty near, arose, and was led off to the stable. 

“I doant like to see the dumb critters abused,” said 
Dicky. 

“Nor I neither,” said Ned, “but they are very stub- 
born sometimes. In the Strippings the drivers lick 
’em with iron steam pipes an inch and a half thick.” 

“They got some wicked mules there,” said Jerry,; 
“they kick if you go near them. I wonder that the 
drivers don’t get their heads knocked off.” 

“Oh, I knaw that they have wicked mules but ’alf 
of them they make bad themselves. It ben’t right to 
lick them unmerciful. Many of them get sick and tired. 
I doant like to work myself when I am sick or tired 
and it ben’t right nuther.” 

“Dicky, thee’rt too good for this world,” said Ned. 

“Too good? ’ee can’t be too good, but ’ark ’ere 

comes Bruice,” said Dicky. 


56 


BOSS TOM. 


Bruice could be heard tramping along the gangway 
and swearing at a great rate. 

“He’s mad; hear ’im curse,” said Ned. 

“Doant ’ee strike, Jerry, ef ’e says anything to ’ee,” 
cautioned old Dicky. 

Bruice was angry, whether on account of the beat- 
ing given the mule or the interference of Jerry or some 
other cause unrevealed. He strode by the parties at 
the foot of Jerry’s breast, without as much as a look, 
and continued his way up the gangway. 

“You had better not go on any farther, Mr. Bruice,” 
said a timberman. “We haven’t been in to the face 
yet ; we think there’s black damp there.” 

Bruice in an impatient tone told the fellow that he 
needed no one to give him advice, that he was an ex- 
perienced miner and knew what he was about. Totally 
ignoring the advice of the old timberman, Bruice strode 
on toward the face. The gangway men watched him 
as his form receded from them and his light became 
fainter in the distance. 

“Like our hold general Braddock, ’e won’t take 
advice,” muttered Jerry to himself. On and on went 
Bruice until at length he was seen to totter unsteadily, 
the mining lamp on his cap burnt low, flickered for an 
instant and then went out ; then came the sound of a 
falling body, muffled and dead like. The men stared in 
pallid awe at each other. They well knew what was 
wrong. Boss Bruice had succumbed to black damp 
or white damp (gases of an insidious and exceedingly 
deadly nature that make the unsuspecting miner weak 
and unconscious and is fatal if the person affected is 
not removed soon). 

“Black damp,” said one. 

“White damp,” shouted some. 

“Bruice is knocked out with black damp,” shouted 
another. 

“Come, let’s get him out,” cried one but no one made 
a move. 

“He will die in there soon,” whispered another. Men 


BOSS TOM. 


57 


hesitated. To go in was almost certain death. Yet 
they did not like to see Bruice perish. Bruice had ill 
treated the men and few felt like risking their life for 
him. 

“ ’Tis death to any man that goes in there,” mut- 
tered one. 

“And we have our families to look after,” said 
another. 

“Who will take care of them if we go down?” 

“Not the company. I’ll be wagered,” said a third. 

“We ’ould risk it now for ould Tom Penhall, but for 
the loikes of Bruice, that chate the min out of their 
yardage and is a regular nayger driver, the ould blag- 
gard,” added Mike Lynch. 

Red Jerry had entered the manway of his breast 
and was ascending when he heard the voice of his 
Italian laborer, “Bruice him knocked out with black 
damp.” 

He hurried down the narrow manway with im- 
petuous speed and in the gangway found the crowd of 
hesitating men. The situation was taken in at a glance ; 
Bruice knocked out with damp and somewhere in that 
dark interior ; the men hesitating on account of the 
danger — no, not so much on account of the danger 
as their hatred of the unjust foreman. 

“Come on, men. Will you allow a man to perish in 
your own sight?” he shouted as he passed them on the 
run. 

Mike Lynch and a few others carried away with 
their better feelings and inspired by Jerry’s heroic 
daring, rushed in after him. Probably Bruice never 
knew how much he owed to the man he had discharged 
that day. On rushed the rescuers in a ragged, uneven 
line, some in advance, others in the rear. Far in ad- 
vance of all was the figure of Red Jerry, his form dark 
under the flickering light of his mining lamp. He 
knew when he had entered the damp. A sense of 
weakness and tiredness came over him and threatened 
to overcome him. With a faint sputter the lamp went 


58 


BOSS TOM. 


out and a feeling of dreamy inertness stole through his 
system and he was near forgetting the purpose for 
which he was there. Then remembering with a start 
he shook off the deadly feeling and stumbled on. 

‘‘Jerry, Jerry, are ye all right?” came a voice from 
the rear. It was the voice of Mike Lynch whose lamp 
was gleaming like a faint spark behind him. He re- 
membered saying something, but what, he did not 
know, in answer. Then a feeling of bewilderment and 
doubt smote him. Had he passed Bruice in the dark 
or was he still on before him? He paused for a mom- 
ent and then stumbled on a step, and then — “Thank 
God !” he uttered for he had almost fallen over the 
prostrate form of the mine-foreman. The stumble and 
the discovery brightened his dulled faculties. 

“Come on, boys, Tve got ’im,” he shouted, and then 
with all his strength, which was uncommon for his 
ordinary build, he raised the prostrate man in his arms 
and slowly staggered back. There was the sound of 
staggering, advancing steps and Mike Lynch almost 
collided with him in the dark. Mike took hold of one 
arm and together they advanced and then came other 
rescuers, and slowly, and with ever increasing short- 
ness of breath they toiled on, and on, and on — stum- 
bling, falling and rising. Would the pure air ever 
come? Jerry kept asking himself. Mike Lynch relin- 
quished his grasp upon the foteman’s arm and sank an 
inert heap upon the ground. Some one else seized the 
arm that Mike supported but Jerry noticed it not. He 
still gripped the other arm of Bruice and with dogged 
persistency, pushed on. There was a shout in the dis- 
tance and other men led by Ned Thomas and old 
Dicky Curnow rushed towards them from the pure air 
region. And it was high time for men were falling on 
all sides and even stout Jerry was ready to drop his 
heavy burden, which he now almost sustained alone. 
The newcomers took Bruice away from his weary res- 
cuers, while others quickly aided the men overcome, 
and soon all were successfully borne into the fresher 


BOSS TOM. 


59 


air of the outer gangway. Jerry and Mike and the 
others recovered slowly, but Bruice looked like a dead 
man. 

“Stand back and give them air,” said Ned; “How do 
you feel, Mike?” 

“Pretty weak.” 

“ ’Ow do ’ee feel, Jerry?” It was Dicky Curnow 
that spoke. 

“All right,” said Jerry as he feebly staggered to his 
feet and was supported by Ned. “How are the 
others ?” 

“Bruice bad; the others all right.” 

“A close call, Mike,” said Jerry. 

“A closer one for Bruice,” said Dicky. 

Slowly Bruice recovered from his stupor. “Who 
got me out?” he asked when he had gained conscious- 
ness sufficiently to speak. 

“ ’Ee must thank Jerry, so ’ee must, Mr. Bruice,” 
said old Dicky and forthwith he launched into a eulogy 
of Andra, winding up with his first assertion. “ ’Ee 
must thank Jerry, Mr. Bruice.” 

“Oh ,” said Bruice and then there was a pause, 

but he said nothing else. 

“I would ’ave done as much for any man,” said Jerry 
and then seeing that Bruice was out of danger, he 
turned on his heel and stalked feebly up the manway 
of his breast followed by his laborer. 


60 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER V. 

A COMMON MINER’S HOME. 

HERE is a common impression prevalent among 



many people that the miner is the roughest, 


most uncleanly and most untutored of civilization 
extant; that his home is an uncomfortable, darksome 
hovel, replete with squalor, filth and desolation, pro- 
lific in sooty blackness and redolent in sickly odors; 
an ignorant boor, a quarrelsome ruffian, an abject slave 
at times, sullen, unreasonable and intractable and ever 
ready to go upon a strike that paralyzes the industries 
and business health of the state. 

The egregious wisdom of the special reporter, preg- 
nant with a cursory glance, called “A Study,” in all 
things save accurate information, hales forth to the 
light of publicity the most wretched specimen of his 
class and proclaims to the world, — “Lo, a miner.” 

What erroneous ideas and conceptions, what biased 
conclusions flood and confuse the public mind by the 
efforts of these paid architects of public opinion. 

That the miner is neither a ruffian nor a slave, that 
his home is not a noisome hovel is apparent to the 
one who acquaints himself with him and his house- 
hold ana his routine of life. That the average miner 
is a trifle uncouth ’tis true, but he is warm hearted, 
sober, industrious, of an average education, and is a 
God-fearing man. Neither is his home a hovel but a 
clean, comfortable abode, in some cases small, in oth- 
ers, more spacious. Some homes are sumptuously fur- 
nished, and would delight the heart of one in a higher 
station in life. The piano and well filled bookshelf is 
no unusual sight, nor is the Brussels carpet or Turkish 


BOSS TOM. 


61 


rug a rarity. The miner, however, with the most 
poorly furnished home generally has the largest bank 
account, but his home, whether well or poorly fur- 
nished, both the miner and his thrifty wife strive to 
make comfortable, neat, and happy. 

Such was the home of Ned Penryn, common miner. 
His was the first house in an unpretentious row of 
little red-ochered buildings that led westward from the 
store. A rude picket fence enclosed a bit of green 
sward in front, from the midst of which miniature 
lawn nodded blithesome and gayly, a few geraniums 
and marigolds. The house was a company house 
rented to two families. Each family had two rooms 
on the first floor, a kitchen and a front room or parlor ; 
and three sleeping apartments including the attic 
above. 

Ned Penryn was an enterprising man and was more 
anxious to have a bank account of some magnitude 
than a sumptuously furnished home. He had an object 
in view and so the furnishings of his home were not of 
the best and showed the utmost economy. Still they 
were comfortable. A curious designed garnet paper 
covered the walls of the parlor and a lighter shade that 
of the kitchen. A rag woven carpet, neat, new and 
adorned with sundry crimson stripes equally separated 
from each other, hid the floor from sight in the parlor. 
Half a dozen cane seated chairs, a plain round table 
and a little, ancient, rose-wood organ was the sum 
total of heavy furniture in this parlor of the poor. A 
curtain and shade hung at the window while on the 
walls were various pictures, — an autumnal scene in 
colors, the crucifixion, and enlarged pictures of Mr. 
and Mrs. Penryn’s fore-bears — all curiously framed 
with dark hued splints by the industrious hands of 
Molly. 

The kitchen was the counterpart of the parlor with 
one or two exceptions. The carpet, rag woven, like 
the parlor, was worn and somewhat older. There were 
several wooden chairs, a plain dining-room table, a 


62 


BOSS TOM. 


cupboard containing some fancy, delicate looking 
china dishes, the pride of Molly’s heart, a rocking- 
chair and a wooden lounge, the latter the result of Mr. 
Penryn’s own handiwork. The sleeping apartments 
were similarly plainly furnished, the walls however 
being lime-washed. Disconnected from the main 
building and some distance to the rear was a plain, un- 
painted, one-roomed building or shanty which was 
used for cooking in the warm summer months and by 
the miner as a place where he could bathe and change 
his rough, mining clothes for cleaner garments. In 
the Penryn home there was an additional building 
that Ned and George used as a bath and changing 
apartment. 

It was a little before five o’clock in the afternoon 
and in the shanty, that was utilized as a kitchen, 
Mollie, Mrs. Penryn, was bustling around, enlivening 
her movements with a cheery song, preparing the sup- 
per. A grey-eyed woman, slightly beyond the middle 
age, with streaks of gray in her plainly combed hair, 
but not a trace of a line on her pleasant countenance, 
was Mrs. Penryn. Molly was busy, for would not 
Ned and George be home soon, and a hungry hard- 
worked man must have a good supper and a tidy wife 
and home to greet him when he arrives, and so there 
was a neatness in the set of the clean gingham dress 
and ironed white collar, and even in the laying of the 
snowy table-cloth there was something that betokened 
the thrifty, careful housewife. A little girl of ten sum- 
mers, attired in a worn, well-washed calico frock that 
revealed the traces of needle repair work, was assisting 
her mother. There was a pause in the singing for a 
moment as the tea canister was examined. 

“I declare there is scarcely tea enough for supper. 
Now, Nellie, you go up to the store and get a quarter 
of a pound of tea. Not any more mind for they would 
just as soon give you a pound as not. And mind,” 
called the mother after the retreating Nellie, “ ’tis 
English Breakfast Tea.” 


BOSS TOM. 


63 


A small cabinet alarm clock struck the hour of five, 
the tones sounding clear and distinct from the rear 
room of the main building and a few minutes later 
came the clanging of the front gate, then the sound of 
sturdy steps and around the corner came Ned, tired, 
soiled, but pleasant in the near prospect of home com- 
forts. 

“There’s water and towels in the shanty, Ned,” 
called Molly to him as he passed around the kitchen 
after his customary salutation of “Well, Molly.” 

After the lapse of half an hour he came forth, 
clad in his clean clothes, his countenance, though 
bearing the trace of blue coal cuts, bright and shining 
as a new pin. 

The table was now set out and Nellie having re- 
turned and the tea made, they sat down to supper. 
There was a momentary hush and silence as the father 
bowed his head and in sober, earnest tones, in the dia- 
lect of his people, besought humbly and sincerely the 
blessing of God. “We thank thee, our Faather, who 
hart in ’eaven, for these gifts of daily food. Bless 
them far their purpose far Jesus’ sake. Amen.” Then 
there was the clatter of dishes, the merry sound of 
pouring tea and the fragrance of that beverage per- 
meated the room. 

“Molly, thee’rt looking as nice as ’ee did twenty 
years ago weth that collar and dress, and the supper es 
fine.” Molly looked flushed and pleased. 

“And so es Nellie looking fine, too. And ’ow ’as my 
little girl been to-day, and ’ow are ’ee getting along at 
school ?” 

“Pretty well, father, and the teacher says that I’m to 
be promoted this spring ; and Oh, father, we are going 
to have such a nice time at the closing day. We are 
going to have speeches and dialogues and sing songs 
and I’m to have a piece to speak, and you are coming, 
father, and mother too, won’t you?” said the child 
coaxingly. 

“Of course, Nellie,” said Ned, smiling. 


64 


BOSS TOM. 


Nellie was delighted and clapped her hands and then 
continued her rattling, childish talk while all the while 
father and mother listened and smiled and joined in 
the conversation. The roaring mine whistle, the “Bull 
of the Mountains,” proclaiming the hour of six 
o’clock, drowned all voices for a moment or two 
with its deep reverberating tone, and a few minutes 
later a shrill boyish whistle and the sound of a youth- 
ful step on the board walk indicated the coming of 
George. Nellie excusing herself for a moment, rushed 
away to greet him. 

“Not now, Nellie,” said George, “I’m too black. 
Wait ’till I’m changed.” This he said to hinder his 
little sister from approaching too close to him, fearing 
to soil her clean dress. George was Nellie’s hero, and 
was always greeted with sisterly affection. George 
was soon changed and having eaten his supper, then 
the supper dishes being removed, joined in the merry 
chat around the table in which the prospects of the 
future were freely discussed. 

Ned had drawn out from its receptacle a common 
clay pipe and was busily filling it, preparatory to en- 
joying his daily evening smoke. The “bacca-can” 
was replaced in its corner and the pipe aglow, Ned 
chimed in also in the discussion of the general theme. 

“Well, Molly, I think I’ll make out pretty well this 
month ; I’m working the breast now by the yard and at 
five dollars a yard, we ought to ’ave seventy dollars 
coming to us this month. I tell ’ee though, Molly, we 
must go carefully for the powder bill is going to be 
’eavy and we must save some* money now.” 

Molly who was just finishing up the cleansing of the 
supper dishes, responded with a sagacious nod. 

“There,” she said as she had finished brightening up 
the last article, — the tin cup of Nellie’s — “that’s all 
done and I suppose I may as well sit down and rest 
for a minute.” 

“By the way, ’ow much is on the bank-book?” asked 
Ned between the puffs of his pipe. 


BOSS TOM. 


65 


Molly hastened into the house and up-stairs and soon 
returned with the little brown book. Together the) 
went over the columns of their hard earned savings. 

“Three hundred dollars! Why Ned, we’re getting 
rich !” exclaimed good wife Molly, in joyous enthusi- 
asm. 

“I didn’t think ah was so much,” responded Ned, a 
little dubiously, and then turning to George he said, 
“Here, George, figure up that and see ef it’s right.” 

Both watched him as he rapidly went over the col- 
umns. 

“That’s all right. No, it’s three hundred and one 
instead of three hundred,” said George, the latter 
remark being made after he had altered a slight mis- 
take in one of the columns. 

“And now, Molly, a few hundred more and we will 
’ave a ’ome of our own and a garden too.” 

“I’m thinking of that all the time, Ned. You don’t 
know how I wish for a home of our own. Perhaps we 
could ’ave a cow.” 

“We could, Molly.” 

“We’ll have the house painted white and have green 
shutters. It’ll look so pretty, and we’ll have a white 
fence.” 

“We’ll ’ave a front porch roofed over, and a back 
porch with a roof, too. Then on wash-day ’ee can use 
the back porch and wash in the shade.” 

“Yes, and on Sunday we’ll sit on the front porch like 
Mrs. Penhall and her husband do.” 

“Molly, we’ll ’ave a grape vine too. Think of it. We 
can go out and pick a grape when we want it.” 

“Oh, how nice,” said Nellie clapping her hands glee- 
fully. 

Molly and Ned smiled while the former’s eyes 
glistened through her tears as she said, “Hope, what 
could we do without hope?” 

“Not hope, Molly, but ’ee and me.” 

“We have struggled so long, Ned” — said Molly and 
then paused. 


66 


BOSS TOM. 


“We’ll ’ave it never fear,” said Ned with a most 
emphatic tone. “We’ll ’ave to go carefully and not buy 
so much out of the company store.” 

“And Nellie must take some music lessons. She’s 
fond of the organ, dear child.” 

“Alice Penhall said she would teach her,” said 
George. 

Nellie gave an exclamation of pleasure while her 
black eyes sparkled. 

“And George must have books to study if old Tom 
is going to ’elp him,” said Ned gravely, and 
then terminated the conversation by arising, 
saying at the same time that he must mend 
his mining boots and so departed to the 
changing shanty there to bend with awl and 
waxed thread over the much worn articles before 
mentioned. A man must go careful, for Nellie must 
have lessons and George must have books and he must 
get that new home for Molly, the home with the green 
shutters and the grape vine ; and such things could 
only be gained by the greatest economy, he thought, 
as he began his task under the light of a feeble oil 
lamp. With care the boots would do for another sea- 
son. These thoughts passed rapidly through his 
mind as he busily plied the needle. 

In the shanty kitchen, which Ned had left to pur- 
sue his repairing, George was laboring over some 
abstruse problems in decimal fractions. With knitted 
brow and perplexed countenance, he was studying and 
seemed mystified. Finally closing the book and plac- 
ing his cap upon his head, he signified his intention 
of going up and seeing “old Tom” about it. 

Mrs. Penryn and Nellie were left alone in the 
kitchen, the latter person assiduously endeavoring to 
teach her favorite kitten some new tricks, while the 
former was engaged in repairing some mining gar- 
ments of George. She had rolled up her sleeves and 
donned a gingham apron. 

“Let’s see. This jacket is blue drilling. I must 


BOSS TOM. 


67 


mend it with blue drilling/’ she said musingly to her- 
self. “It looks better. Nothing looks better in mend- 
ing work than to have a coat patched with a piece of 
the same material.” 

The work went noiselessly on for an hour or so and 
then Ned having finished his work, returned to the 
kitchen and all adjourned to the parlor to hear Nellie 
play a church hymn on the organ, which hymn she 
had picked up by ear. 

“Where’s George?” asked Ned, laconically. 

George’s absence had scarcely been accounted for 
by Mrs. Penryn before he apppeared upon the scene, 
book in hand. 

“Tom show you how to do un?” asked Ned. 

“No,” said George, laughing. “Tom was stuck him- 
self and Alice had to show us both.” 

The sentence was scarcely out of the boy’s mouth 
before there was heard a knock at the door and upon 
it being opened the heavy form and pleasant features 
of Boss Tom, himself, presented themselves to view. 
He was gladly welcomed. 

“Come in, Tom,” exclaimed Ned. 

“Good evening, Mr. Penhall,” said Molly, as she 
drew a chair forward for his use. 

Tom took the proffered chair and responded cheer- 
ily to all present and then began fumbling in his 
pocket as if he had misplaced something. Finally 
fishing up from one of his capacious coat pockets a 
folded piece of paper, he extended it to George. 

“George, boy, Alice sent me down to make a cor- 
rection in that problem. I can’t make un out what ah 
be, but there es the paper.” 

George took the paper and while he was examining 
it Tom continued: “Did ’ee ’ear the news?” asked the 
latter of Ned and a negative answer being given, Tom 
described how Boss Bruice had been overcome with 
black damp and how Andra and others rescued him. 

“And Boss Bruice ’ad given ’im the sack just be- 
fore?” 


68 


BOSS TOM. 


“Yes,” answered Tom, “and Andra, Ned Thomas 
and Dicky Curnow are now going to work for me. 
Bruice never thanked Jerry and I suppose Jerry was 
too stiff to wait fer any compliments. All three of 
them say they won’t work fer he any longer ; of course, 
Jerry couldn’t work fer he anyway as he had got the 
sack; so I give them all jobs in the west gangway of 
Number One.” 

“It would be better if hall bosses like ’im were out 
of the mine,” said Ned. 

“That’s so,” said Tom simply and then added, 
“though Bruice es a good miner ’e lacks religion.” 

Molly had been listening attentively, while her busy 
fingers were mending some garments of Ned. She 
now ventured a question. “What is black damp and 
white damp?” 

“Well, it’s caused by lack of circulation of the air. 
Black damp gathers where there be no air; ’ee feels 
weak and can’t see well ; mining lamp goes out as 
if ah ’ad no hoil and ’ee finally becomes unconscious. 
White damp es the worst ; ’ee falls down as soon as ’ee 
gets in. White damp is most fatal though black damp 
es bad enough.” 

It was Boss Tom who volunteered the above infor- 
mation. 

The conversation went on, on various subjects. 
Little Nellie was perched on her father’s knee, her 
attention and hands engaged in a very interesting task, 
picking out the minute pieces of coal from the callous 
hands of Ned, using a pin as a surgical instrument. 
Gazing up for an instant, attracted by something that 
was said, her sharp black eyes spied Boss Tom’s hands 
that seemed to have more coal in them than her 
father’s. 

“Oh, Mr. Penhall, don’t your hands hurt?” she 
asked sympathetically. 

“Hands hurt?” said Tom in amazement. “No, my 
dear, why do ’ee ask that?” 

“Why, those pieces of coal.” In her little heart she 


BOSS TOM. 


69 


had always imagined that the small pieces of coal im- 
bedded in the horny hands of her father must hurt 
him and through her sympathetic nature had consti- 
tuted herself a small surgeon to her father every even- 
ing. Ned had laughingly humored her in her idea. 
She, now gazing at Tom’s large hands, thought 
she saw a greater field for the exercise of her surgical 
abilities and benevolent heart. 

“Hurt? Why no, my dear,” reiterated Tom, laughing. 

“Oh, Mr. Penhall, do let me pick them out. They 
hurt but you don’t feel them so much ’cause your 
hands are so big. Do let me pick them out,” she 
coaxingly said in conclusion; and Tom, extending one 
of his great hands toward her, humored her in her 
philanthropic design and soon seated on his knee she 
was drilling small coal mines in his callous palms. 

“And now, my dear,” said Tom after the conversa- 
tion had drifted on for half an hour or so, “let’s ’ear 
that tune that you was playing when I was coming 
down street.” 

Nellie acquiesced, for she was proud of her early 
effort. Climbing down from her position on Tom’s 
knee, she went modestly over to the organ and seated 
herself on the stool and began. Tom, during the play- 
ing, tried hard to hum the air but what with the indif- 
ferent time of the youthful musician and his own inac- 
curate knowledge, he made but a poor showing. 

“That was well done, my dear. Ned, boy, ’ee’ll ’ave 
to give ’er lessons. There’s talent in that girl. 
Shouldn’t wonder but Allie could give ’er a start, any- 
how.” 

“We are going to do that this summer, Mr. Penhall,” 
said Molly. Both she and her husband were gratified 
at Tom’s high opinion of their little daughter’s ability. 
Boss Tom now took his hat and bid the Penryn family 
good night and departed. 

“Tom es a good man,” said Ned as he returned 
from seeing Tom to the gate. “Tom es a good man. 


70 


BOSS TOM. 


I only ’ope George will get up to be as ’igh as ’e. 
Well, lad, ’ee must study ’ard far it.” 

“We’ll have to save money and see what we can do. 
If we could only buy where we wanted to, and not 
buy at the company store, we could save twice as 
much as we do.” 

“Yes,” assented Ned, “but we must buy some things 
or I lose my job, for they won’t give a man work that 
won’t buy anything or little out of the store. Anyhow 
we are better off than some, for some miners’ wives 
spend every blessed cent their ’usbands earn, but my 
wife, Molly, es as good as a bank,” so saying Ned 
kissed his wife who flushed with gratification at her 
husband’s compliment. 


BOSS TOM. 


71 


CHAPTER VI. 

WORKING HALF TIME. 

T HE reduction in wages was not the only result 
of the over stocking of the market. In the early 
days of July the mines of Mayoton began work- 
ing half time and miners, drivers and other employees 
had a vacation though not desiring it. There were 
none that viewed the half time order with any satis- 
faction but George Penryn and Jimmy O’Donnel, the 
drivers. This gave them the time they so much de- 
sired for applying to their studies. They had been 
very earnest in their efforts, and punctilious in their 
night sessions with Boss Tom Penhall. Jimmy at 
first was still mystified by the profundity and, as he 
thought, the inconsistency of fractional concomitants. 
He could not fathom the multiplication of halves and 
quarters. 

“Wan half times wan half is surely more than wan 
fourth,” he said to Tom one evening. 

“ ’Ow's that?” asked Tom. 

“To multiply is to make more and wan fourth is 
surely less than wan half,” added Jimmy with the wise 
air of a sage. 

But that over which Jimmy stumbled the most was 
the use of the term zero. 

“Wanst zero was nawthing; that’s true, but wan 
half of zero must be something for it’s wan half of 
what wanst zero is,” said Jimmy and all Tom’s saga- 
cious acumen in instruction and occult learning was 
of no avail in proving to him that it was otherwise. 
George assisted him out of the dilemma. 

“Now, Jimmy, ye have five apples and then ye give 
me the five and then how many would you have?” 


72 


BOSS TOM. 


“Nawthing,” said Jimmy. 

“Well then, Mr. Penhall wants ye to give him half 
of what you have and how many would he get?” 

“Two and a half,” answered Jimmy. 

“How’s that?” said George in naive astonishment. 

“Shure and I’d say, ‘George, give Mr. Penhall half 
of them apples.’ ” 

“But suppose I’d say I wanted to keep them all and 
wouldn’t give Mr. Penhall any.” 

“Then I’d say, ‘George, you give Mr. Penhall half 
of them apples or I’ll wipe the floor up wid ye,’ which 
would be a pretty harrd thing to do, seeing that ye are 
me frind and a pretty good fighter, George.” 

“Yes, but look at me now. Ye are to give Mr. Pen- 
hall half of what you have yourself and ye don’t have 
any at all. Then how many would Mr. Penhall have?” 

Jimmy rubbed his head dubiously for a moment or 
two and then slowly responded. “I suppose he 
wouldn’t have any at all then.” The difficulty was 
solved for Jimmy then and there. 

These were some of the earlier difficulties of the 
young students. During the half time period they had 
made great strides and were considering the advisa- 
bility of taking up the elementary parts of algebra. 
Jimmy’s first sight, however, of the various signs 
nonplussed him. What was x and what was y? Were 
they symbols for 2 or 3? These were the questions 
that perplexed them. Jimmy decided that the science 
was a little too “dape” for him as yet, and George 
thought it best to understand arithmetic thoroughly 
first and so the understanding of the above mentioned 
science was postponed for a time. 

The monotony of study was varied during this per- 
iod by the incessant expeditions after that most de- 
licious of fruits, the wild huckleberry. During the 
early part of July, the woods around Mayoton were 
full of berry-pickers. On the hills and upon the flats, 
behind bushes and under trees, appeared the busy 
workers, American, English, Irish, German and Hun- 


BOSS TOM. 


73 


garian, all intent on the gathering of the luscious berry. 
No place on the wild mountain heath too sacred for 
their tread. Late comers would rejoice upon the ap- 
parent discovery of a good place unoccupied, when 
the next moment, from behind a neighboring bush 
would loom up the red turbaned head and broad 
stupid face of a Slav woman. 

’Twas the opening of the season and the small blue 
variety appeared in prodigious numbers. There were 
other varieties which Mrs. Penhall would rather have. 
There were the “swampers/ ” the large, sour berries 
that grew on bushes six feet high in the swampy dis- 
tricts ; the seeders called so from the number of their 
seeds ; the strippers deep blue, sweet, and so numer- 
ous on their stocks that they could be picked by the 
handfuls, hence the name; and lastly the dark juicy 
stoners called so on account of the size and hardness 
of their seeds. Boss Tom would rather pick the latter, 
as he enjoyed the eating of them and the sound of the 
cracking seeds under his teeth. 

It was half time however and Mrs. Penhall was not 
going to have her Tom home idle. They wouldn’t 
wait for the others but would have some of the first 
variety, and so, one morning, when Alice and Mary 
were starting forth on their first trip of the season, 
Mrs. Penhall gave a great twelve quart bucket to Tom 
and told him he might as well go too. Tom was not 
averse to going but thought that the twelve quart 
bucket was a trifle small, to which remark Mrs. 
Penhall replied that he would find it plenty large 
enough before the close of day. 

On the way they met George and Jimmy who were 
not loathe to join the company. Mary and Alice wore 
coarse gingham dresses and looked uncommonly well 
notwithstanding their humble attire. The articles that 
both the lads objected to were the large home-made 
sunbonnets, that not only shielded their countenances 
from the sun but also from the view of their compan- 
ions. Boss Tom wore his heavy mining shoes and 


74 


BOSS TOM. 


rough clothing to match, while his head was shielded 
by a mammoth straw hat, that is while it was on his 
head for half the time it performed the function of a 
fan that Tom wielded vigorously. He was not accus- 
tomed to the heat of the sun and the small flies and 
gnats disturbed the equanimity of his temper. In ad- 
dition to the other grievances the large twelve quart 
bucket continually obtruded itself in his way and once 
to his great chagrin he stumbled over it and many of 
the hardly plucked berries were scattered on the 
ground. 

“No use to waste them,” said he philosophically and 
so while the others wandered on, picking and convers- 
ing, he sat down and began gathering them up, plac- 
ing more of them, however, in his mouth than in the 
bucket. 

Jimmy and George soon proved themselves the most 
expert pickers and were much ahead of their compan- 
ions. 

“Now,” said Jimmy, finally, “suppose we hang up 
our buckets near some tree and pick in the tin-cups. 
It will be a dale easier.” All had provided themselves 
with small tin-cups before starting out so that they 
would not be under the necessity of carrying the large 
buckets with them everywhere. The plan was readily 
agreed to and a tree was selected under which the 
slightly filled pails were placed. 

“Now,” said Jimmy, soberly, “we will have to have 
something to place on the tree to help us find our way 
back, shure,” and he looked at Mary tentatively, and 
then added, “if Mary will let us have her bonnet .” 

“The very idea,” said Mary, “why, you will have us 
as sunburned as a— a — .” She did not finish her 
sentence for Jimmy, the sly rogue, interrupted her. 

“Ye needn’t mind the sun, now, shure, for I’ll let ye 
have me straw hat and the sun won’t spoil my beauty, 
anyhow,” answered Jimmy, reassuringly and anx- 
iously. Subtle indeed was Jimmy, for he was tired of 


BOSS TOM. 


75 


gazing and conversing with a sunbonnet and desired 
a look at the real article. 

Mary finally acquiesced, much to Jimmy’s delight, 
and George asserting that two bonnets would be a 
better mark of observation than one, Alice relinquished 
hers also, and demurely accepted and placed George’s 
hat upon her head. It was a halcyon day for the two 
lads and they bore the heat of the sun with indiffer- 
ence, the same spirit being within them that stirred 
the old-time knights to labors and perils. 

“Jimmy,” said George, to that worthy aside after 
they had been picking for sometime, “the girls can’t 
pick as fast as you and I can, so let’s fill their buckets 
on the sly.” The hint was sufficient for Jimmy. 

“We will so,” he said nodding his head emphat- 
ically. And so when the tin-cups were full the lads, 
alternately would steal away and place the contents 
in the girls’ buckets. Every alternate cupful could 
thus be accounted for. 

The scheme was perceived, however. 

“Alice,” whispered Mary to her companion, “those 
boys are filling our buckets and they think that we 
don’t know anything about it. Let them fill them and 
let’s help Mr. Penhall, for he is so dreadfully slow in 
picking, and we won’t tell either of them of it until we 
all get our pails full.” 

“Just the thing,” said Alice, smiling with mischief 
in her eyes. 

Tom continued his picking, though the work was 
hard and tedious. He had also hung up his bucket 
and was picking in a smaller vessel. “I’ll pick no more 
berries when the sun is so hot. I won’t go out no 
more until I get more accustomed to it. I believe I’d 
ruther buy them than pick them.” Tom was mur- 
muring phrases like these under his breath as he 
slowly approached his bucket with a new supply. 

“I declare,” he said as he looked down into the 
bucket, “I do believe I’m a better picker than I thought 
I was, and a better picker than they poor children, and 


76 


BOSS TOM. 


’ere I ’ave a bigger bucket. I’ll just put a tinful 
apiece in they buckets of theirs every now and then 
and ’elp ’em out a bit.” 

Alas ! for old Tom’s good nature. In his efforts to 
fill the buckets of his young companions, he poured 
in more than he was able to replace and he became 
sadly discouraged. The heat oppressed him and the 
mosquitoes annoyed him, and hunger assailed him, 
so, sitting down in the shade he began to satisfy the 
cravings of his appetite by eating a few of the berries 
he had left. In the cool shade of a sequestered arbor 
of laurel, overcome with weariness, he fell asleep and 
dreamed of everything but huckleberries. The young 
people had kept on picking and in their wandering had 
distanced Tom and his arbor. 

A sudden scream from Alice and Mary awakened 
the lads to a sense of danger. Both rushed to their 
assistance and found them excitedly pointing to a 
clump of bushes near by. 

“It’s a snake,” said both in one breath. 

“Pooh !” said George, “let’s see it.” 

Both lads armed themselves with large clubs and 
the snake, revealing himself, there came a battle royal. 
The blacksnake of large size, for such it proved to be, 
was enraged no doubt by its frustrated efforts to es- 
cape and writhed and fought and was only dispatched 
after repeated blows. With the girls’ fears allayed, 
the lads felt like young heroes. 

“And now for the buckets for I think these last will 
fill all,” said George. He had reference to the filled 
tin-cups that each carried. The tree was found and 
the buckets inspected, but Tom and his bucket were 
gone. 

“Why, where’s father?” 

“His bucket’s full and he’s no doubt gone home,” 
said Jimmy. 

“Oh, here he is,” said George who had caught sight 
of a slumbering form under the laurel bushes. 

“Yes,” said Alice in some indignation, “and he’s 


BOSS TOM. 


7 


been eating his berries for there’s berry juice on his 
face and his bucket is only half full. Now, that’s a 
shame !” 

“What, what, ’ee aren’t ready to go home yet, are 
’ee?” said Tom, as soon as he was thoroughly awake. 
“Why, I just laid down here for a minute to rest 
and—” 

“And you have been eating your berries too!” added 
Alice in some vexation. 

“Ah, Allie, it’s too warm and the skeeters nearly eat 
a man. I tell ’ee, Jimmy, I’d ruther buy them than 
pick them. I mean the huckleberries,” added Tom, 
by way of explanation. They all laughed at Tom’s 
doleful face and then Alice added, while a look of dis- 
appointment came over her features, “And we were 
helping you too. We picked more in your bucket than 
you picked yourself. Didn’t we, Mary?” Mary nod- 
ded her assent. 

“I consider we’re the best pickers here for we picked 
and have full buckets and also helped father,” added 
Alice. 

“And we picked our own buckets full and also 
helped you,” said George and Jimmy, laughing. 

“Why, why, that’s strange,” said Boss Tom, with 
a smile, “I thought my bucket was getting full pretty 
fast and that I was the best picker and so I ’elped ’ee 
all.” 

“What!” said all four in a breath, and then as the 
absurdity of the thing came home to them, they all 
laughed merrily. 

“Well,” said Jimmy, “it appears that George and I 
were helping the girls and they were helping Mr. Pen- 
hall and that Mr. Penhall was helping us all, and each 
unbeknownst to the other, it does so; and now that 
ould Tom — I mane Mr. Penhall, shure, — and now that 
Mr. Penhall’s isn’t full yet, I think we ought to help 
him.” 

“I think we ought,” asserted George. 


78 


BOSS TOM. 


“And as he helped us all unbeknownst to us, I think 
we ought to help him unbeknownst to him,” contin- 
ued Jimmy. 

“Aall right, aall right, Jimmy,” said the boss, laugh- 
ing, “and I’ll rest ’ere a bit and shut my heyes and I 
won’t knaw it.” 

All started in to fill Tom’s bucket and Tom himself 
desiring to hasten the work began to pick with energy. 
Whenever any of the party would approach to put 
some in his bucket, Tom would turn his back and say, 
“Now, put as much as ’ee mind to in for I won’t 
knaw it.” 


BOSS TOM. 


79 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE JOKERS OF NUMBER ONE. 

B OSS Tom Penhall was as good as his word and 
gave “Red Jerry” Andra, Ned Thomas and old 
Dicky Curnow positions in Number One slope. 
“And ’ere, Andra, mind ’ee doant thraw any cars oil 
the track in Number One,” said Tom when showing 
them their places. 

“No fear of that, Tom,” said Andra with a laugh. 
Ned Thomas and Andra had a breast of coal in part- 
nership, and old Dicky was stationed near them in the 
gangway, timbering. Now Ned Thomas was a prac- 
tical joker and, inspired with the spirit of merriment, 
had resolved to have some amusement with old Dicky. 
The grand concert for the benefit of the Methodist 
choir was approaching. Ned when in Number Two 
had importuned Dicky, the leader of the choir, for free 
tickets with the threat that otherwise he would print 
tickets for himself and friends. 

“Ah, Ned, boy, thee’ll buy thy teckets along weth 
the rest, for ’ee’ll want to see the concert and ’ee can’t 
prent teckets, that I knaw,” Dicky had said gleefully 
at that time. 

Much to Dicky’s dismay and horror, however, on 
the very day of the great concert Ned Thomas ap- 
peared with the tickets. Ned had borrowed the tick- 
ets from one of the ticket sellers with the understand- 
ing that he was to return them at the expiration of the 
day’s work. It was dinner time and they were all as- 
sembled at the “battery” of Ned’s and Jerry’s breast. 
The battery was a breastwork of heavy timbers built 
across the foot of the breast to keep the loose coal 
from rolling down into the gangway. Here were as- 


80 


BOSS TOM. 


sembled Ned, Jerry, old Dicky, and a few others en- 
gaged in eating their noon-day repast. In the midst 
of the conversation, Ned drew forth the tickets. 

“Jerry,” said he, “they look just as good as the real 
ones, don’t they?” and he handed one over for his in- 
spection. 

“Yes,” said Jerry between the bites of his pie that 
he was devouring. 

“I thought I might as well prent quite a few while I 
was at it and I could give a few away to my friends,” 
continued Ned, as he drew forth a few more from his 
pocket. “Have one, Jerry? You have one, butty?” he 
said to a Hungarian near by. While saying the above 
he was busily handing a few around. “Yes,” said Ned 
to Jerry, with a wink, “of course, I can sell a few and 
make a bit of money that way, but then I’d never think 
of selling them to my friends. Got enough money now 
to buy a sight of ’bacca with,” and Ned, as if to testify 
to the fact, brought forth a handful of coppers from 
his coat pocket. 

“Look at one, Dicky,” continued Ned and he handed 
one to the old man, “can’t tell the difference from the 
real ones, can ’ee?” 

To say that old Dicky was angry is putting it 
mildly. The old man’s face was pitiable to see. There 
were pallor, dismay, astonishment and wrath written 
all over his countenance and his features worked with 
suppressed emotion. The tickets were precisely like 
the ones Dicky’s own men were selling. 

“Oah, oah, Neddy, how could ’ee a done it. Ah 
thought ’ee more of a Christian, Ned, so Ah did!” 

“Well, Jerry, there, is as much to blame as myself. 
You know, Jerry, you helped to prent them in our cel- 
lar,” said Ned as if trying to shove the blame off on 
Jerry. 

“Oah, oah, Neddy, Neddy, thee’s been and spoilt the 
concert. ’Ow could ’ee ’ave done it? Thee’s been 
and spoilt the concert. I’m going to see Penhall about 
it,” so saying the old man wended his way down the 


BOSS TOM. 


81 


gangway to tell Boss Tom. Boss Tom was not far 
off and soon returned with old Dicky. “Whas this all 
about?’’ said Tom entering into the spirit of the joke. 

Old Dicky told his story, punctuated with expres- 
sions of dismay and then Ned told his, accusing Jerry 
of a part in the printing, much to the latter’s amuse- 
ment. 

“Ned,” said Boss Tom, with a grin, “thee’rt a limb 
of Satan. Now you ’ave to gather all they teckets up 
and give them to Dicky.” 

“Well,” said Ned as if reluctant to obey, “we only 
had twenty-five tickets and Jerry ’as one and the 
Hungarian ’as another and I ’ave the rest.” 

Jerry and the Hungarian promptly handed over 
their tickets and Ned slowly handed over the rest. 

“It seems a shame that after all our hard work 
prenting those tickets that we should have nothing for 
it,” said Ned, pretending to be a little cross. 

“Now I tell ’ee,” said old Dicky, once more in the 
height of good spirits, “thee, Ned and Jerry too, shall 
come into the concert free,” and the old man in the 
fullness of his heart handed Ned a ticket which that 
worthy refused. 

“No, no, for prenting those tickets you ought to 
allow Jerry and me to sing in the concert, and I think 
we can do it, too,” said Ned, doggedly. 

The old man rubbed his head dubiously. He wanted 
to be fair to Ned but he did not desire to spoil the con- 
cert by the introduction of new material at the last 
moment and then Ned’s tones were a little uncertain. 
A bright idea seemed to strike him. 

“Now, Neddy, thee may be as smart at singing as in 
prenting teckets, and I’ll let ’ee sing in the concert 
if ’ee promise to not sing very loud, cause ’ee may 
make a mistake but ef ’ee sing soft nobody will hear 
’ee.” ■ m# 

Ned and the others present burst into a roar of 
laughter. 

“No, no, Dicky, we’ll buy our tickets and sit down 


82 


BOSS TOM. 


in the audience. It’s only a joke, Dicky. We didn’t 
prent the tickets, but only borrowed them.” 

Ned with all those present bought tickets of old 
Dicky and there still being a little time before the 
expiration of the dinner hour, Dicky accompanied 
Boss Tom down the gangway, thinking to sell a few 
more tickets. 

“I thought sure they ’ad prented the teckets for them 
Thomases can do most anything. But it’s all right 
now though I did think that the concert was spoilt at 
the first.” 

Old Dicky was interrupted in his remarks by the 
voice of an Irish miner, a newcomer in the country, 
accosting Boss Tom. 

“Mr. Tom, I’ve been wurruking here now long 
enough to have a reduction in me wages and I’d loike to 
have one, shure for I’m a thinking I’m worthy av it.” 

“How much are ’ee getting now?” 

“Wan dollar and a quarter.” 

“Well, I’ll give ’ee a dollar instead,” said Tom smil- 
ing. 

“Ach, no, it’s a reduction I’m after, shure.” 

“Well, and a reduction means less, doant it, my 
man ?” 

“Och, the spalpeen, it’s more that I’m after wanting, 
whatever they call it. Thomas told me that I naded 
a reduction in me wages and if he was me he would 
have me rights and ask for it, but it’s more I’m after 
wanting, whatever ye call it.” 

Tom’s eyes twinkled with humor. 

“That Ned is always fooling some one. Ef ’ee want 
more wages ’ee must see McCue, my man, but better 
not see him just yet a bit, I’ll tend to it.” 

“Jerry,” said Ned to Andra, after the dinner was 
finished, “let’s go over to the Stripping and have some 
fun with the Hungarians.” There was still some 
time before the resumption of work and forth they 
started, having provided themselves with a piece of 
official paper and pencil. The purpose of Ned was 


BOSS TOM. 


83 


nothing else than to solicit aid for some purpose or 
other. It is the custom around some mines to solicit 
aid for a man’s family when he is hurt by a fall of coal 
or similar accident. The miners and workmen are 
generally very kind and considerate in this respect 
and give liberally, the laborers and Hungarians from 
fifty cents and a dollar upwards ; the miners and others 
correspondingly more; and the subscription having 
been made, the amounts are taken out of the office on 
pay-day. 

“Now,” said Ned, “we’ll take up a collection and ask 

every Hungarian to subscribe. Les — see . Oh, I 

have it,” and Ned fairly hunched Jerry with delight. 
The plan was explained. They were to solicit aid for 
Stephen Stronovich’s wife. Now Steve was a Pol- 
ander and Polanders were not on the best of terms 
with the Hungarians. According to common report 
Steve had run away from his wife and returned to 
Poland, and some didn’t blame Steve for his wife was 
an exception to the average Polish woman. She was 
anything but docile and dovelike in her demeanor and 
Steve had not only felt the sharpness of her tongue 
but also experienced the might of her hand. 

Approaching a number of Hungarians who were 
eating their dinners Ned took out his paper and 
gravely accosted one of their number. 

“John, we taking up a collection for Stephen Stron- 
ovich’s wife. Steve, him run off and left him wife and 
children with nothing to eat and we take up a collec- 
tion. How much you give, John?” 

In speaking to foreigners, mining men generally 
used the broken English that they used, thinking, 
presumably, that they could be better understood by 
them. The Hungarian addressed looked glum and 
shook his head and then turning to his companions 
gave vent to a string of excited jargon. 

“Who collection for?” asked one. 

Ned again explained and by the angry, sullen looks 


84 


BOSS TOM. 


of the foreigners, it was evident that they were not 
very well pleased. 

“Well,” continued Ned, “how much you give, 
John?” 

“Me no want to give,” answered one sullenly. 

“But Boss, him say every man must give one dollar 
and if no can give, Boss, him maybe give sack,” contin- 
ued Ned solemnly. 

The Hungarian was fighting mad but he did not 
relish the idea of getting the sack and seeking work 
elsewhere. 

“How can me give? Me no money,” and Hungar- 
ian John held out his empty hands in corroboration 
of his statement. 

“Thas all right, John. We wait ’til pay-day and 
turn it in to the office,” averred Ned, “and if no can 
give, Boss, him give sack.” 

“All right, all right,” said each one with angry 
shrugs, the last threat being too much for them. 
“Me give one dollar.” Their names were duly placed 
down upon the paper in Ned’s sharp caligraphy and 
away went he and Jerry to their work. “Wasn’t that 
rich to see those ’Ungarians sputter?” said Ned giving 
vent to a peal of laughter when they were out of hear- 
ing. “We’ll take up another fake collection to-morrow 
and make it five dollars.” 

Precisely at the same hour, Ned and his fellow work- 
man, the following day, started forth on their fun 
making expedition. 

“John,” said Ned to the same Hungarian, “we take 
up another collection. They build a church over in 
town and big Boss McCue, him go to that church and 
him say every man must give five dollars, or may be 
if no can give, then, big Boss, maybe him give sack.” 

The same angry shrugs and expostulations were 
manifested as at the previous collection, but due to the 
implied threat of losing their positions th-ey all acqui- 
esced. 

“Well, me give. Put me down,” was heard from 


EOSS TOM. 


85 


all sections. One fellow was exceedingly angry and 
looked provoked enough to fight, much to Jerry’s and 
Ned’s amusement. 

“Now,” said Jerry to increase the fun and at the 
same time drawing out an additional piece of paper 
and a pencil. “Now I take up a collection for Mike 
Bolisch. Mike, him break a leg and Boss, him say 
every man must give a dollar to help Mike.” 

There was a roar of angry, Hungarian expostula- 
tions. Vehement gesticulation and words of oppro- 
brium followed, and no doubt, in the Hungarian 
tongue both bosses and Mike Bolisch were consigned 
to condign punishment and obloquy. Hungarian John 
burst into a great laugh and pointed off in the distance 
and there was Mike Bolisch, himself, stalking along as 
large as life, and apparently walking well for a man 
with a broken leg. Apprehending that all the collec- 
tions were a joke, they entered into the fun of the thing 
with various shouts and cries. 

“Yes, yes, me give five dollars, ten dollars,” could 
be heard on all sides. 


86 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

OPERATOR HOYT AND SUPERINTENDENT McCUE 

O PERATOR Hoyt drove over to Mayoton from 
the city. The fast trotting bays arched their 
heads proudly as if realizing the worth of their 
master. Mr. Arthur Hoyt was by no means an old 
man and yet he could no longer be classed with the 
rising generation. He was somewhat past the middle 
age, tall, debonair, urbane, and kind-hearted but with 
a trifle of stately haughtiness in his demeanor, espec- 
ially when one who had not the right, presumed famil- 
iarity. His square shoulders were surmounted with a 
head of classic mould while piercing black eyes lighted 
up a countenance, kindly and dignified. Fortune had 
dealt kindly with Mr. Arthur Hoyt. As a penniless 
lad he had come to the mining regions and with but 
an average education and his own efforts, supported 
with an indomitable will and courage, he had carved 
out for himself a fortune. He was a married man and 
had his home in the city some few miles distant from 
the mines of Mayoton. Notwithstanding the courtly, 
debonair exterior of this man of millions, underneath 
was the soul of the business man and principles thor- 
oughly impressed by his years of contention against 
adverse circumstances. Like all business men of 
wealth he desired to be still richer. He attended the 
Presbyterian church ; gave liberally to charitable en- 
terprises; possessed a conscience not yet hardened by 
avarice ; was a good husband and loving father ; but he 
loved money or rather the power and influence that 
money brings. 

To his bosses he was friendly, that is, he spoke to 
them when he met them, greeting them cheerfully; 


BOSS TOM. 


87 


but to most people in Mayoton he appeared in the 
light of a regal character — a little king. He owned all. 
Children gazed with awe at him as he drove through 
the little village and the miners’ wives chatted and 
gossiped about his beautiful home and wealth. If 
any one suggested that he might buy the city of New 
York no one would have had the temerity to doubt his 
financial ability to do so. If he noticed a child or nod- 
ded to a miner, the parents and the miner considered 
the recognition an honor and it was talked about in 
the family for days. On Christmas and Thanksgiving 
Day he gave each family in his employ a turkey, and 
a nurse was always at hand for the sick. Some at- 
tributed these latter favors to his own kindly nature, 
others ascribed them to the influence of Mrs. Grace 
Hoyt. Mayoton was only one of the mines he owned 
but it was the largest and most lucrative. 

It was evident that Mr. Hoyt was not in the very 
best of humors, for his brow was furrowed and lined 
most unpleasantly and his eye-brows were drawn 
down as if in displeasure. The fast trotters cared not 
a whit for their master’s thoughts. They only knew 
that he treated them kindly and that was all they de- 
sired. Mayoton rapidly drew in sight. Along the 
road, shadowed by the trees, past the white church, 
then with the skill of a master horseman the trotters 
were brought up to the main door of the offices of the 
company. The horses were taken charge of by an 
attendant, an attachee of the office, and the operator 
entered the office door. 

“How are you, Mr. Hoyt?” said the superintendent 
as he grasped the operator’s hand warmly. Mr. McCue, 
the big toss, as he was called by the foreigners, was 
not so large physically. He was a small man of or- 
dinary features and grey eyes, but such are the incon- 
sistencies of nature that sometimes the smallest phys- 
ically are great in heart and mind. Care and toil had 
aged McCue prematurely. 

“Very well, indeed, Mr. McCue, but sit down. I 


88 


BOSS TOM. 


want to talk with you for a moment or two and, by the 
way, help yourself to a cigar,” and the operator handed 
his gold-mounted cigar case to the superintendent, 
who, selecting one and lighting it, prepared to listen to 
his superior. 

“The profits of the last month, McCue, have not 
totaled as much as I expected. The Meadow mine 
brought in a profit last month of forty thousand dol- 
lars and it is the smallest and least productive of any 
of my mines. Now here at Mayoton last month, after 
all the expenses and the various salaries had been met, 
I only received thirty-five thousand dollars and this 
is, or rather has been, the best colliery that I own. 
There should have been at least fifty thousand dollars 
instead of thirty-five. What’s the trouble?” 

McCue fidgeted a little in his chair and then, seeing 
that an answer was expected, responded slowly: 

“It’s true that this colliery is the best, I believe, and 
should be the most profitable, but there is no one rea- 
son that I can give as the complete cause of the short- 
age. The mines are working half time and the miners, 
on account of the half time are not buying so much out 
of the store as in former times, at least so Mr. Brame 
reported to me. Henry, the docking boss, has not 
docked so many cars this last month, because I told 
him not to dock unless the cars contained too much 
slate. It’s this way, Mr. Hoyt, I have always desired 
to be fair to the men and to the company. I believe 
if I should run the mines as the Meadow mines are run 
there would be much more profit, but my conscience 
won’t allow me to do that.” 

“Of course, I don’t desire you to do anything against 
your conscience, McCue,” said Hoyt fidgeting a little 
in his turn, for he knew the methods used by Superin- 
tendent Brown of the Meadow mine; “but the mines 
ought to pay better and the store ought to pay better. 
You say the men are not buying so much. It seems 
ungrateful in them not to patronize the company that 
gives them work and feeds their little ones. I don’t 


BOSS TOM. 


89 


want to think that there is any inefficiency in you, Mr. 
McCue, but things must pay better. There must be 
larger profits, and now see what you can do this 
month,” and Hoyt after a few more words arose and 
departed. McCue watched the operator step into his 
carriage and drive away. 

“That’s the way it always is,” he said to himself and 
yet half aloud. “The superintendent is between the 
upper and nether millstones. The miner blames the 
superintendent if there’s the least cut in the wages or 
the least fault of any kind, and the operator hauls him 
over the coals if there’s the least shortage. If the 
superintendent tries to do what’s fair to the men and 
give them their just dues he can’t hand over as much 
surplus profit to the operator as his other and less 
scrupulous superintendents can ; and then there is an 
implied threat of removal for inefficiency. I suppose 
Hoyt didn’t mean it that way but it sounded cousin- 
like to the word ‘sack.’ Now Hoyt, in the main, is a 
good man and a sincere, honest fellow but he pays no 
attention to the welfare of the mining classes nor to 
his mines either, except to the ledgers and finance. As 
long as miners have enough to eat he thinks they 
ought to be satisfied. He forgets that they have to pay 
doctors and buy books and have a bank account for a 
rainy day. He considers only the income and not the 
men that make it for him. The only way I can see to 
increase the profits of the mine is to increase the out- 
put of coal or cut the men, dock them unconsciously, 
and make them buy more out of the store. The former 
is impossible at this time when the market is flooded 
with coal and the other,” and McCue shook his head, 
“I can’t do that.” 

Oh, ye operators, who sit in comfortable city offices 
who see nothing but the columns of your ledgers, 
who consider your mines as nothing more than pieces 
of huge machinery to turn out profits for yourselves, 
who, when you visit your industries, visit only your 
superintendent’s office and his ledger account and con- 


90 


BOSS TOM. 


sider not the welfare of your people, contemplate your 
criminal negligence. Operators are, in the main, chari- 
table, kind hearted, and ready to assist when any be- 
nevolent enterprise meets their attention. The fault 
is not in the lack of the heart but in a woeful and vol- 
untary ignorance of the condition and needs of the men 
under them. A colliery does not come up to the own- 
er’s anticipations and then the superintendent is com- 
manded to make things more remunerative, no matter 
how he does it. The superintendent, in order to come 
up to the inconsiderate demands of his superior, must 
urge on the mine foremen and store superintendent to 
make things pay better or the superintendent loses 
his position. The mine foremen and bosses must urge 
on the men beneath them or they lose their positions. 
The store superintendent must sell more or lose his 
position, and so the screwing and tyrannizing policy 
goes on. If the expense of running the mine is less in 
any one department one month than the previous one 
an effort must be made to make it still lower. Event- 
ually it reaches the miners’ wages and then follows — 
a strike. 

Monarchy, — the most absolute monarchy extant, 
could gain points of inestimable value from a careful 
study of the anthracite coal mine. The monarch is the 
operator who makes exorbitant, ignorant demands 
of his prime minister, the superintendent. The sup- 
erintendent must comply or lose his position, and in 
order to comply must cut the men’s wages and afflict 
them, and the bosses must obey or give place to men 
who will. 

Mr. Hoyt drove briskly into the city. That even- 
ing as he was snugly ensconced by the study fire (the 
fall having set in rather cold, a fire had been made in 
the study grate) his man-servant came in and an- 
nounced a visitor. 

“Show him in,” said Mr. Hoyt, for the operator was 
not inaccessible outside of business hours. A moment 
or two elapsed and then the person was ushered in. 


BOSS TOM. 


91 


Short, broad shouldered, forty years of age or more, 
his forehead low, broad, with a mass of slightly curl- 
ing black hair pendant over one side, was the visitor. 
His eyes were dark and scintillating and the broad- 
ness of forehead was in strict keeping with the heavy 
jaw and chin. 

“Where could I have seen him before,” thought 
Hoyt to himself. “In Colorado? No. At the seaside? 
No.” Yet he had seen that face before. Where? Yes, 
now he remembered; it was the face in a picture he 
had seen once in an old castle in North Wales when he 
had been on one of his European trips. The picture 
was that of a Welsh chieftain who had made common 
cause with the Tudor on the field of Bosworth against 
Richard III. A man of determination and will power, 
thought Hoyt in summing up his reflections on the 
newcomer’s appearance. The servant drew forward a 
chair and withdrew. 

“Mr. Hoyt, my name is Gwynne — Owen Gwynne,” 
said the newcomer and forthwith presented his card. 

Mr. Hoyt took the proffered piece of pasteboard and 
glanced at it nonchalantly. “And what can I do for 
you, Mr. Gwynne?” 

“I heard (never mind where) that your mine of 
Mayoton was not coming up to your expectations in 
the line of profits, and I just thought that I would 
interview you about the matter.” 

Mr. Hoyt’s countenance flushed an angry red for he 
liked neither the stranger’s demeanor nor the thought 
that any one was meddling with his business. 

“To what reason am I to ascribe your interest in the 
matter?” he said gravely, while he scrutinized the man 
for a moment. 

“Why, it’s this way,” said Mr. Gwynne, a little less 
briskly than formerly for he perceived that the oper- 
ator was not well pleased with his manner. “I have 
had quite an experience in the conducting of mines and 
had I the charge of the Mayoton colliery I could guar- 
antee you double the amount of its present income. 


92 


BOSS TOM. 


I could guarantee you at least sixty thousand dollars 
a month clear profit after all expenses were met.” 

Mr. Hoyt was immediately interested. 

“You are sure of that?” he asked. 

“Most certainly.” 

“And how would you manage to do it?” 

“The whole mine should be run on different prin- 
ciples.” 

“What principles?” 

“The mine should be run for the benefit of the oper- 
ator so that he could receive the maximum of profits. 
A man naturally desires the very best interest from 
his investment, and he should have the maximum of 
profit, for it is his property and it is manifest that you 
are not receiving the maximum at the present time.” 

Again Hoyt frowned, but his displeasure left him, 
and he nodded his head and simply said, “Very true.” 
But though he had thus assented to the statement 
made there was an uncomfortable feeling in his heart 
that it ought to be modified. Mr. McCue’s talk about 
running a mine conscientiously had borne this fruit at 
least. 

“If I should give you the position of superintendent 
for which I glean you are an applicant, and you 
should attempt to run the mines on the principles you 
have, do you think that the men would be satisfied?” 

“Satisfied?” said Gwynne, carelessly, “to be sure 
they would be satisfied — they would have to be sat- 
isfied. Don’t you do enough for them? You hire 
nurses for them when they are sick. You give them 
turkeys on Christmas and Thanksgiving Day. They 
have plenty to eat, plenty to wear, comfortable homes, 
plenty of work; what do they want more? All these 
I guarantee they shall have, and in addition, the May- 
oton Coal Co. shall have a profit of at least sixty 
thousand dollars a month besides.” 

Hoyt’s countenance brightened perceptibly, and 
then became cloudy and thoughtful. “Of course, I 
don’t like to turn McCue off. He is honest and faith- 


BOSS TOM. 


93 


ful, but he can’t be efficient, at least as efficient as I 
thought him to be, or the mine would be more re- 
munerative than it has been of late.” This the oper- 
ator thought and said to himself mentally while Mr. 
Gwynne watched him narrowly. 

“Well, Mr. Gwynne,” he at last said aloud, “I will 
think over the matter and will let you know of my 
decision some time in the future, — that is, if you are at 
all time available. This is your permanent address?” 
he asked and gazed again at the card. 

Mr. Gwynne answered in the affirmative and seeing 
that nothing further could be accomplished at that 
time, bowed himself out and took his departure. 

Mr. Hoyt sat a long time in deep reflection and 
reverie. 

“I have heard of this Gwynne. He was superin- 
tendent of the Prosperity Colliery in Schuylkill county. 
That colliery is shut down now. He didn’t bear a 
very good reputation there, for on account of his 
methods of work all the men hated him, but the mine 
yielded a princely income to the owner. I don’t like to 
turn McCue off for the miners all like him and the 
mines are tolerably successful under his care but I 
should think he could make them more remunerative 
and still do what is right. If this Mr. Gwynne,” and 
here Hoyt again scanned the card, “can make sixty- 
five thousand dollars a month, I don’t see why McCue 
can’t make more than thirty-five thousand. We’ll see, 
we’ll see how McCue does this next month,” so saying 
the operator dismissed the topic from his mind for the 
time being. 


94 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A NUMBER ONE TRAGEDY. 

W ITH the advance of fall the market was relieved 
of its surfeit and the mine of Mayoton began 
to work full time, and so it continued through- 
out the winter and McCue was enabled, by the in- 
creased demand, to bring the profits up to a more 
satisfactory figure. 

Early spring had once more come. The fetters, icy 
and frigid, of winter had been broken. Under mild 
penetrating temperature the hills and mountains vom- 
ited forth floods of water on whose tumultuous surface 
careered insanely chaotic masses, rafts, pyramids, and 
what not, of snow and half melted ice. Water, water, 
muddy, turbid, and pregnant with slush, polluted the 
highways and by-paths and changed picturesque 
Mayoton of the winter into a sodden, doughy, 
desolate plain, unenlivened by a single speck of 
greenness. There was mire and mud in streets 
and gardens. Housewives scrubbed and scolded 
and scrubbed again. Cellars became miniature 
lakes to the delight of the small boy with 
his mother’s tub for a steam-boat. To augment 
the discomfiture of the half drowned earth the clouds 
of heaven belched and drizzled, gushed and poured in- 
cessantly for weeks, until it seemed that even root-life 
w^s so chilled and dank as never to recover from this 
pelting sweat of the elements. Every dawn witnessed 
an amber mist on the eastern horizon which was trans- 
formed into a luminous opaline radiance when pene- 
trated by the first refracted rays of the sun and then 
the hues would deepen, until finally a blood-red sun 
would arise attended by floating banners and stream- 


BOSS TOM. 


95 


ers of brilliant carmen, stretching north and south in 
sinuous lines like the ensanguined ranks of a victor- 
ious army, returning from the field of conquest. It 
was sublime and yet gruesome, portending some ill, 
as some thought, to the neighborhood. To this day 
the period is remembered by the people of Mayoton. 
Rain — the period had not a precedent. Old men and 
housewives would gaze at the bloody sun and shake 
their heads and mutter, “more rain to-day — never saw 
the like.” 

The sulphur creek which carried all the water from 
the hills and that which was pumped from the mines 
above Mayoton, running due west midway between 
the north and south coal basins of Mayoton, was full 
to overflowing. The water was up to the top of the 
banks, a great, wide, murky, inky torrent, oscillating 
and heaving with hidden power, yet rushing swiftly 
onward. Boss Bruice called Tom Penhall’s attention 
to it. “Like a river, isn’t it, Tom?” 

“Doant like it, Bruice, boy. It is too near the 
mines.” 

“Won’t hold much more, Tom.” 

Boss Tom shook his head and, approaching the 
slope, walked down the manway. At the bottom there 
was no light in sight and so he hastened into the 
northwest gangway and ascended the manway of 
O’Donnel’s breast. O’Donnel was busy putting in the 
hole. 

“Top solid, O’Donnel?” 

“No, a trifle loose.” 

“Dangerous?” 

“Yes, Tom, I think it is,” answered O’Donnel. 

“Take care, lad, doesn’t ’ee get hurt. The next 
breast inside you get after this is finished.” 

“All right, Tom.” 

“The gangway men must drive a little farther first, 
though. Now mind, O’Donnel, boy, will ’ee? mind the 
top and be careful how ’ee put in they holes.” 

In the gangway at the foot of O’Donnel’s breast 


96 


BOSS TOM. 


Philip Phillips and a few of his men were assembled. 
They had stopped for a moment to converse with a 
miner near by. 

“Hallo, Tom — Hallo-o-o-o-o, Tom! Hallo, Tom, 
Tom !” came a voice far down the gangway and far 
in the distance could be seen the bobbing light of a 
mule lamp, gyrating and undulating in a most unac- 
countable and eccentric manner. 

“If that’s the trip coming in, it's the fastest on rec- 
ord, ’’ said one. 

Nearer and nearer came the light, and louder and 
shriller and more petulant came the cries until the ap- 
parition took the appearance of George Penryn 
mounted on the great mule Boxer. Boxer had been 
doing his level best over the rough ties of the gangway 
and appeared pretty well fagged out when George 
drew up at the foot of O’Donnel’s breast. 

“Well, George, are ’ou trying to train old Boxer for 
the race-track?” asked Philip humorously. 

“Where’s Tom?” 

“Tom will not give ’ou any money on Boxer,” con- 
tinued Philip still jokingly. 

“Find Tom, I tell you. The creek has burst into the 
mine and the whole mine will be drowned out in an 
hour or so.” 

The humorous expression passed of? the face of 
Philip in an instant, and the next moment, rotund and 
fat as he was, he was pushing up the manway of 
O’Donnel’s breast at break-neck speed. He had seen 
Tom go up there shortly before and no time was to be 
lost. The horror of the situation flashed on the mind 
of the Welshman and caused him to redouble his ef- 
forts. Up and up, and on and on, falling and rising, 
shouting, “Tom, Tom !” A few lights burst forth in 
view at the head of the breast. They were the flames 
of O’Donnel’s and Boss Tom’s mining lamps. 

“What’s the matter with ’ee, man?” said Tom, as 
Philip burst into view. 

“The creek has burst into the mine, Tom!” 


BOSS TOM. 


97 


Down hastened Tom with O’Donnel and Philip at 
his heels. 

In the gangway George told him rapidly and more 
specifically, his short sentences punctuated by the 
pantings of big Boxer, that the creek had broke into 
an old cave-in on the east side and was pouring in a 
regular torrent down the south-east gangway. 

Tom ran to the top of the second lift and shouted 
to the driver boss, Sandy, through the speaking tube. 

“’Alio, ’allo-o-o-o, Sandy, Sandy!” 

'‘Hallo,” came a faint Voice from the depths of the 
second lift. 

“Tell all hands to come up right away, Sandy. The 
creek ’as burst into the mine; ’ee can’t work down 
there ; all the water will go there and ’ee’ll be drowned 
like rats in a trap. Tell Mike to set the pumps all run- 
ning and see that all the men come out, and come out 
in a hurry. Do ’ee ’ear?” 

“Yes, all right,” came the answer. 

Tom wheeled around and started on a rush down 
the gangway, shouting to George and the others as 
he passed them. “George, you and the men get all 
the men out of this gangway as quick as ’ee can and 
then get out yourselves,” and away went the boss to 
the foot of the slope. 

Crowds of miners and timbermen were already 
there when the boss reached the bottom of the slope, 
and the incoming torrent from the tunnel was already 
nearly seven inches deep. 

“Here’s Tom! A bad job, Tom,” and similar ex- 
pressions were heard on all sides as Tom came into 
view. 

“Lads, we can’t work here to-day. That creek will 
fill the mine in a few hours. Are all the men out of the 
south gangways?” 

“Number 101, the Hunk and his butty, and Number 
60 and his butty are in,” said Mike Maloney, one of 
the road-men, “the rest are all out I believe.” 

“I’ll go in and get them,” said Tom, “and now, men, 


98 


BOSS TOM. 


look sharp. ’Ere, Jimmy, you and some of the men 
go into the northeast gangway and warn all the men 
out. George is already in the other gangway and the 
men in the second lift have all been warned. All the 
breast men must come out or they will be shut in like 
rats in a trap. Look sharp, men, and hurry,” so saying, 
Boss Tom rushed off through the tunnel to the south 
side. It was like the old hero that he was, to take 
upon himself the most dangerous mission — the going 
to the remotest part of the mine, risking his own life 
for that of four foreigners. On the way he collided 
with another rapidly moving body and the impact was 
such that it sent the other with a splash into the water. 
He arose, sputtering and dripping. It was Adam Bo- 
gel, the Hungarian driver. 

“Come along, Adam; I need ’ee,” exclaimed Tom, 
and away he rushed through the rapidly rising waters 
closely followed by Adam, who, in common with many 
others, would have followed Tom to death. The tun- 
nel was passed and they had emerged into the south 
side gangways. 

“Stop,” said Tom as they arrived at the foot* of a 
breast, “here es where Number 101 works. Go up, 
Adam, and tell him and ’is butty to come down and 
then wait for me. I’m going up into 60’s breast.” 

Adam, in pursuance of Tom’s commands, ascended 
101’s breast and Tom going in still farther, ascended 
the manway of 60’s. 

“’Alio, Sixty, ’allo-o-o-o !” 

“What you want?” came a broken English voice 
from away up the breast. 

“Come down and tell your butty to come down,” 
bawled Boss Tom, in a stentorian voice. 

“All. right, Mr. Tom.” 

Soon the Hungarian and his butty hurried down 
and they all joined Adam and the occupants of 101’s 
breast who were already in the gangway. 

“No work to-day,” explained Tom, “creek burst into 
the mine.” 


BOSS TOM. 


99 


“All miners out?” asked 101. 

“I doant knaw,” responded Tom ; “here, 60, you and 
101 go up every breast and see that the men are all 
out and, Adam, you come with me and see the other 
gangway.” 

Tom and Adam retraced their steps to the tunnel 
and entered the southeast gangway. The water had 
doubled itself in volume since their entrance into the 
south side and was now tearing along in a torrent that 
was hard to stem. Up the breasts they went; here 
and there they found miners away up and yelled to 
them to come down. These with Tom and Adam 
warned the others. Onward they went, the current 
becoming still stronger until the roar of a cataract met 
their ears, and they observed in the lambent light of 
their mining lamps the dashing spray, mingled yellow 
and black in hue, of the flood pouring down with fiend- 
ish impetuosity from an old abandoned breast. The 
stream was so violent that some of the miners held to 
the props for support. 

“Any one behind?” roared Tom, trying to make him- 
self heard above the dashing sound of the waters. 

“Nope,” shouted Adam in his ear, “them all come 
out with me.” 

“Well, les go, boys,” and, suiting the action to the 
word, they began to retrace their steps, the flood as- 
sisting them along. At the entrance of the tunnel, 
they found 60 and a few miners from the other gang- 
way awaiting them and together they started on their 
way back to the foot of the slope. The water was 
knee-deep and was fast rising. 

A shout, loud and glad, greeted Tom and his men as 
they emerged from the tunnel at the bottom of the 
slope. It came from a crowd of rescuers from the 
other gangways that were there congregated, awaiting 
him. 

“All out?” asked Tom. 

“I believe so,” answered Jimmy and George. 

“Men in the second lift up?” 


I of C. 


100 


BOSS TOM. 


“Yes.” 

“Well, boys, you can go too. But stop, — are the 
mules all out?” 

“No.” 

“Too bad that! Well, we must get them out. The 
mules in the second lift are drowned by this time and 
we can’t ’elp they, but the mules here we must get up 
some ’ow. I suppose we must drive them up the mule- 
way.” 

“Will they go up, Tom?” asked some one. 

“They must. Come, boys, look sharp.” 

The mules in this slope were always taken up and 
down, when necessary, in cars, specially constructed 
and called mule-cars ; they were seldom taken up, how- 
ever, and some had been down for years. Recently 
a mule-way was driven up to the surface. The pitch 
in some places was very great. Each of the men took 
hold of a mule by his rough bridle. The animals were 
a little frightened by the rushing waters. 

“I believe the whole creek is coming in now,” said 
George. 

“Lively, now, lads, or we shall be caught.” 

The water was rising perceptibly. Quickly boys 
and men moved into the northeast gangway with the 
water swirling almost up to their hips. Speaking now 
and then to quiet the animals, they traversed the gang- 
way until they reached the dark cavernous ascent of 
the mule-way. The water was not so deep here as it 
was up grade. 

“Up, Boxer,” said George who was in advance, but 
Boxer wouldn’t budge. 

“Try another, boys, quick!” exclaimed Tom. Some 
went up but others were stubborn, not being accus- 
tomed to the ascent. Some laid their ears back and 
kicked at the drivers and their snapping whips. Tom 
yelled, the Hungarians yelled, the drivers bawled and 
pulled. 

“Hitch the ones that won’t go up to the others,” said 
Tom. 


BOSS TOM. 


101 


This was quickly effected and the refractory animals 
having a leader were willing to follow. It was no 
child’s play, however, as the way up was steep and 
even though hitched to others they were sometimes in- 
clined to be stubborn. Probably for the first time in 
all his life Boss Tom was compelled to resort to a lit- 
tle cruelty, though, as he said afterward it wrung his 
heart to do it. Some means must be used to save the 
mules’ lives. Placing his flaming lamp upon the end 
of a pole, he touched the mules up with it when they 
became excessively stubborn and the lagging animals 
feeling the heat would have a sudden inspiration to 
proceed forward. A shout from George, who was in 
advance, proclaimed the approach to the surface and 
a moment or two afterward a glimmer of light, day- 
light, was seen before them. A minute or two later 
all were upon the surface where were assembled a 
large crowd of men, women, and children. 

About four o’clock that afternoon, the men were 
once more assembled at the slope mouth, but many 
now dressed in their clean clothes ; assembled 
there out of curiosity to ascertain the increase of 
water. Superintendent McCue, Boss Tom Penhall, 
Machine Boss Lewis, Mike Clyde, the pumpman, En- 
gineer Big Bill Smith, and other officials were dis- 
cussing the situation. 

“Can’t stop the water from flowing in?” asked 
McCue. 

“Creek too high,” answered Lewis. 

“Good job the men all out,” said Tom. 

“Yes,” said McCue, “it was thoughtful of you, Tom, 
to get the men and mules out.” 

“If the whole creek had burst in at once every one 
would have been drowned, except the men up the 
breasts and they would be starved to death,” said 
Clyde. 

“It ’pears that only a small stream came in first, 
then it became bigger,” said Tom. “I tell ’ee, McCue, 


102 


BOSS TOM. 


they miners worked hard to get all the men out, and 
so did Jimmy and George and Adam.” 

“Who discovered it first?” asked McCue. 

“Adam,” replied Tom. “He told the miners inside 
of the cave-in and they came out to look at it ; by that 
time it was a bit bigger. They escaped by doing it, 
for when we got there we couldn’t get any farther. 
You see they worked in the end of the southeast gang- 
way and when we got to the place where the water 
was coming in, we found.it was like Niger Falls.” 

McCue smiled a little at Tom’s pronunciation of 
Niagara Falls and then asked, “Well, who told you?” 

“Adam told George and he came racing in on the 
back of Boxer. Good job he did or the men in the 
second lift would be all drowned by this time.” 

“Well, Tom, I am glad no men are shut in,” said 
McCue. 

“We can thank God that the whole creek didn’t burst 
in at once,” murmured Tom and then louder, “I tell 
’ee, McCue, when ’ee see Hoyt, tell ’im about George, 
Jimmy, and Adam, the Hunk. They are good boys.” 

“I’ll mention it to Hoyt and he won’t forget it.” 

“Mules in the second lift drowned by this time,” 
said Clyde. 

“We forgot until too late about they,” added Tom. 

“We couldn’t get them in the car and the regular 
mule car wasn’t down,” said Clyde. 

There was a commotion among a crowd of people 
at some distance and they were rushing up to McCue 
and the men around him. 

“What is this, Tom?” asked McCue. In the center 
of the crowd was a woman, a Hungarian woman, a 
Mrs. Gusha. 

“Mr. Boss, Oh, Mr. Boss,” she cried, in great dis- 
tress, while the tears rolled down her face, “Mike, my 
Mike, him in slope!” 



“ Oh, Mr. Boss, Mike, my Mike, him in slope!” 

( Page 102) 

































































































































































BOSS TOM. 


103 


CHAPTER X. 

THE RESCUE OF MIKE GUSHA. 

M AN in the slope,” cried Boss Tom, in some agi- 
tation. “No! who is he?” 

‘‘Mike Gusha, Number 20,” answered some 

one. 

Superintendent McCue approached and questioned 
the woman. “When did Mike go to work?” 

“Him go before the whistle blow this morning and 
— and — him no come back — him no come back. 
Oh — Oh — Oh — him no come back!” and the woman 
in the excess of her grief threw her apron over her 
head and sank upon the ground, moaning and crying- 
in a most heartrending manner. 

Adam Bogel and a crowd of other Hungarians ap- 
peared and the top of the slope was soon crowded. 
Boss Tom and Mike Clyde, the pumpman, hastened 
down the slope manway but after being absent fifteen 
minutes or so, returned. The gangways were not only 
full of water but the manway also was partly filled. Old 
Boss Tom’s countenance was sad and dejected. 
Throughout his long period as a mine foreman, no man 
had lost his life or had been injured through his fault. 
The safety of the men had been his care, and his rec- 
ord had been his pride. Now he thought that through 
some palpable neglect of duty he had unwittingly 
caused all this trouble. Bosses and miners gathered 
around Tom and McCue. There was a tense and ex- 
cited feeling. 

“Where did he work, Tom?” asked McCue. 

‘The Fourteenth breast in the northwest gangway, 
in the first lift,” he answered sadly. 


104 


BOSS TOM. 


“Who worked with him? where is his laborer?” 
asked McCue. 

“Here him is,” cried Adam Bogel, as he dragged a 
Hungarian who had only been in the country six 
months into the presence of McCue. 

“Question him, Tom,” said McCue. 

“ ’Ow did ’ee get out and leave Mike behind?” said 
Tom. The fellow seemed scared and dumbfounded 
and answered nothing. 

“Ask him, Adam, where Mike is,” said Tom turning 
to Adam Bogel. The latter fired a number of ques- 
tions in his seemingly unintelligible jargon at the 
stupefied foreigner, and translated the results. 

“Him say him come from breast; go for pick at 
blacksmith’s shop ; Mike drill hole for breast ; him see 
water and him get afraid and run.” Boss Tom’s eyes 
flashed fire as this answer was translated to him, but 
what he would have said was curtailed by the approach 
of O’Donnel. 

“Tom, I saw this Hunk and told him to tell Mike to 
come down at once, and then I went in to tell the other 
men.” 

“Tell him what O’Donnel says,” said McCue. 

Again Adam acted as interpreter with the same re- 
sults. The fellow seemed scared and dumb. His in- 
telligence seemed paralyzed. Tom was disgusted and 
indignant. 

“Ah, drat the man ! I’ll never ’ave a man in the 
mine that can’t speak English. Mike begged me to 
give un a job ; — but, McCue, we must get Mike out 
and quick.” 

“Well, Tom, what do you suggest?” 

“Stop the creek from flowing in the mine and drive 
through the pillar between the manway and the first 
breast ; then go through the breasts and headings ; 
but, McCue, the creek must be stopped from flowing 
in, and quickly or ’e will be drowned.” 

“Well, go ahead, Tom, as quickly as you can.’ y 

“Here, O’Donnel, Gallagher,” shouted Tom, “get 


BOSS TOM. 


105 


drills, shovels, and picks.” The men responded eager- 
ly to his call. The drills and other tools were procured 
and Tom, followed by O’Donnel, started down the 
manway, directing Penryn and Gallagher in the mean- 
time to prepare some powder and then change to their 
mining clothes. 

During this time, at Philip’s suggestion, McCue or- 
dered the surveyor to locate Mike’s breast on the sur- 
face, and sink a shaft there ; Clyde and Lewis, boss of 
the Chain gang, and his men were engaged in putting 
in pumps in the slope and mule-way; and Boss Bruice 
and a large gang of men were sent to stop the water 
from flowing in the cave-in. The cave-in was about 
forty feet from the creek. The banks of the creek 
were very low here and the surrounding land still 
lower, so that when it overflowed it quickly found its 
way into the old cave-in. From twelve o’clock the men 
had tried to dam it back into its natural channel, but 
in vain. When the dam of stout boards was half way 
across, the pressure became too great, and with a crash 
and a roar, boards and timber were swept into the 
yawning pit. 

The greatest activity was now manifested by all. 
Penryn and Gallagher were in the manway ready to 
relieve Tom and O’Donnel when they were exhausted. 
At the shaft, a double set of men were ready to re- 
lieve each other. In the meantime at the top of the 
slope, many Hungarian women tried to comfort Mrs. 
Gusha. 

“Him all right. They get him out. Him all 
right,” they constantly averred. “Him be all safe,” 
they assured her. “Did Big Boss, did him say so?” 
asked the woman between her sobs. McCue heard her 
question and turned around. The big heart of the 
kind Irish superintendent was touched by her appeal- 
ing look of unutterable anguish and woe. Taking her 
by the hand he lifted her up from the ground. “Yes, 
yes, Mrs. Gusha, we’ll get him out. Yes, I say so and 


106 


BOSS TOM. 


now you go home and trust the matter to us and don’t 
worry.” 

So saying, the superintendent hurried off to see what 
progress the shaft men and the men under Bruice at 
the creek were making. But Mrs. Gusha, though she 
was comforted by these assurances that she had re- 
ceived from the “big boss,” as the Hungarians called 
the superintendent, did not leave her position at the 
head of the slope. 

McCue found that the men had made but little 
progress in the minute shaft that they were mak- 
ing over Gusha’s breast ; they had easily penetrated to 
the rock which was close to the surface, but the rock 
was exceedingly like adamant in structure and, after 
a few hours’ work, McCue gave them orders to desist, 
for it was evident that the shaft plan was a failure. All 
hopes were now centered upon the tunnel through the 
pillar from the slope manway to the first breast of the 
northwest gangway, which was indeed the most feasi- 
ble plan from the very beginning. 

The men under Bruice at the sulphur creek were 
making but poor headway and so now Phillips and his 
men, relieved from farther operations at the shaft, 
united their efforts to those of Bruice’s men at the 
creek. The creek was still pouring into the old cave- 
in, but in not such abundance as formerly. The pumps 
were working to their full capacity but the water in 
the mine was gaining slowly. Efforts were redoubled. 

But now an unforeseen, but not unexpected thinghap- 
pened. The rain that had ceased for the greater part 
of the day, again began. The water in the creek began 
to increase in volume and the works of clay around the 
old cave-in were gradually sapped and showed strong 
signs of collapse. Bruice was giving up in despair. He 
did not see the reason why such strenuous efforts 
should be made, either, to save the life of one ignorant 
Hungarian. He would willingly have worked his 
fingers off to save the mine but the mine was already 
drowned out. Word was brought to McCue and that 


BOSS TOM. 


107 


stout little man of authority, giving everything at the 
tunnel into the trusty hands of Boss Tom, hastened 
to the scene of Bruice’s operations. Before going, 
however, his alert eye caught sight of a ne’er to be for- 
gotten scene at the slope mouth. 

The Rev. Kossuth Husser, the pastor of the Hungar- 
ian Lutheran church of which Gusha was a member, 
had come upon the scene and was preparing to hold a 
service of prayer for the safety of his parishioner. The 
sturdy form of the priest with his rugged, earnest face 
and reddish hair, standing surrounded as he was by 
his simple, uncultured flock, all kneeling in the rain, 
is impressed firmly upon every one’s mind even to this 
day. McCue, though a Roman Catholic, paused for a 
moment and then hastened over to the group. 

“Father,” he said, touching Husser’s arm respect- 
fully, “pray that the rain may cease and we can get 
him out.” Husser nodded and McCue hastened away 
upon his mission. 

Reaching the scene of the cave-in, the situation was 
taken in at a glance. 

“Bruice, cut down some of these trees and throw 
them into the cave-in and throw bales of hay in ; block 
that hole up in anyway you can ; and you, Thomas, 
Dolan, Curnow and about twenty others get picks and 
shovels and follow me. We must turn the creek into 
another channel.” 

The plan was a very feasible one. McCue had 
thought of it at first, but deemed the protecting of the 
old cave-in a more necessary one, and thought that 
it would be sufficient. Now he perceived that the 
creek, or a portion of it, must be turned out of its 
course or the other work would be ineffectual. 

“Hurry men,” exclaimed McCue, and set them a good 
example by starting off on a run to the destined place. 
After proceeding up the creek for about a mile or so, 
they came upon the first place that there was any 
chance of dividing the strength of the stream without 
doing any greater damage to the mine of Mayoton, 


108 


BOSS TOM. 


McCue, himself, not only took charge of the operations 
but handled a pick and at times a shovel with his men. 
Forgotten was his position, forgotten the dignity of 
his office, in the face of a grave disaster to one of his 
men and that one a poor, ignorant Hungarian. His ac- 
tions were an inspiration to the men, and to this day 
the miners have not forgotten the kind hearted super- 
intendent, but speak of him with reverence and love. 
He, a man of education and high position, whose hands 
had become softened by labor in the office, working 
like an ordinary miner among miners ! Digging, shov- 
eling, panting, sweating and wearing the skin off his 
hands, striving to turn the strong current of the 
stream. 

“I tell ’ee, buoy,” said old Dicky Curnow, afterwards 
relating the story to some of his friends who were not 
present, “it were amazing to see him, McCue, a labor- 
ing and working like a steam-shovel. ’E were not a 
cursing and a swearing like Boss Bruice, but sweating 
and working and when *e would speak to the men, ’e 
would do it sharp and kind-like. ‘Come, lads/ he 
would say to ’urry us up a bit, ‘us must work hard ef 
us is going to get that poor ’Ungarian out.’ And ’im 
the superintendent and a getting four thousand dol- 
lars a year, too! I tell ’ee it was grand. McCue is a 
good un. ’E bees a Christian, I knaw it.” And old 
Dicky in relating the tale would nod his head in an 
affirmative and emphatic manner. 

But McCue was not the only hero of the occasion. 
In the heading that was rapidly being made, old Boss 
Tom was working and directing his men. The Pillar 
was thicker than any of the other pillars of the mine 
and only two men could work, side by side, in the nar- 
row heading that they were driving. Some of the 
hands were constantly busy getting rid of the debris 
that would accumulate. O’Donnel, Penryn, and Gal- 
lagher would frequently relieve each other when weary ; 
but Tom, stout old hero, notwithstanding all efforts to 
the contrary, refused to give up his place to any one. 


BOSS TOM. 


109 


“I don’t belave we shall find him alive, Tom,” said 
O’Donnel. 

“I can’t say ; but I tell ’ee, we must ’ave air ’ere or 
we shall ’ave black damp. ’Ere, Penryn and Gal- 
lagher, get some men to put a fan up and run some air 
in ’ere. Doan’t ’ee think we need it, O’Donnel?” 

“Yes I do, Tom.” 

“ ’Urry, boys,” shouted Tom. Penryn and Gallagher 
left the entrance of the heading and others took their 
places. A fan and pipes were soon up and a strong 
current of air was rushing refreshingly into the head- 
ing. 

“Now, boys,” said Tom, as he rubbed his hands to- 
gether and then grasped the drill. “That air strength- 
ens us; a chaw of ’bacca, Gallagher, Frismuth.” 

Gallagher promptly handed over the desired article, 
and Tom and O’Donnel having helped themselves, 
hurled the drills with all their strength against the 
wall of coal. Again and again did the sharp iron bars 
cut and bite the coal until two deep holes were made. 
Penryn and Gallagher quickly filled them with powder ; 
they were lighted ; the men ran up the manway ; a loud 
report followed and th'e tunnel or heading was two feet 
nearer the imprisoned man. Thus the work went on. 

At seven o’clock, George Penryn brought in his fath- 
er’s supper and also a well filled bucket, that Mrs. Pen- 
hall had packed for Boss Tom. But Boss Tom took no 
time to eat. At twelve o’clock that night a new force 
of men took the places of O’Donnel and the others, 
but the sturdy boss still kept at his post, not only inces- 
santly directing but assiduously working with his own 
hands. Tom’s experience as a practical miner and rock 
man, gained in his early days, now stood him in good 
stead. About two o’clock in the morning, McCue, hav- 
ing succeeded in turning a portion of the creek and the 
rain having ceased, consigned things up the creek into 
the hands of old Dicky Curnow. At the place of over- 
flow, Bruice had been able with trees, clay, and bales 
of hay, to close the cave-in and then to turn the stream, 


110 


BOSS TOM. 


now reduced two thirds, into its old channel, after 
which work he went home. McCue after inspecting 
the work of Bruice wended his way down the 
manway to the heading operations. 

“How far is she in, Tom?” 

“Almost through,” answered Tom from the deep re- 
cesses of the heading. 

“He’s not had a bit of rest or anything to eat since 
yesterday at dinner time,” said one of the outside 
hands to McCue. 

“What !” exclaimed McCue, and then turning to the 
mouth of the heading he shouted, “I say, Tom, come 
out and rest and eat something.” 

“Ay, I’ll be out after a bit; I can’t leave just yet a 
bit,” came the answer and McCue, knowing that his 
subaltern knew more of practical mining than he did 
himself, did not press the point. 

At dawn the following day, the old force of men re- 
turned and the work was pressed with unabated vigor, 
until after laboring fourteen hours in all, those out- 
side in the manway heard a great shout from the 
workers. “She’s through !” and such indeed proved to 
be the case. Brandy, ropes, blankets and lights were 
on hand in the excited hands of waiting men, and no 
sooner was the news proclaimed than with a rush they 
entered the heading, pressed on and emerged into the 
manway of the first breast, but there all stopped in 
dismay. Yawning like a pit and mammoth-like in di- 
mensions and one-third full of water, the first breast 
seemed an impassable barrier. By the great number 
of lights the roof was seen dimly, forty feet above, and 
above the surface of the water arose the upper part of 
the breast floor pitching at an angle of seventy-two 
degrees. Nothing could gain a footing on that slip- 
pery, slimy ascent. 

“Tom,” yelled Penryn, “must we cut steps across?” 
ready with pick in hand. 

Tom glanced down and then above. 

“Lads, ’tes a pretty steep place, but we must stretch 


BOSS TOM. 


Ill 


ropes across; tie the rope to a prop here, and tie the 
end of un over there ; then only the sure footed go over 
by the rope. One of ’ee must swim across and catch 
the rope as it is thrown across. Who can swim?” 

Clyde volunteered and accompanying Boss Tom en- 
tered the water with lights burning on their caps il- 
luminating the dark waste. They finally emerged 
upon the other side. Up the old manway stairs they 
hastened in their wet, clinging garments, and when op- 
posite the parties on the other side, with a swish, a 
whir, the rope was flung over and duly made fast to a 
stout prop on their side ; and the more daring of their 
companions clambered over the steep incline. 

“Tom, how can we get Mike across? He will be too 
weak to climb,” said Clyde. 

“ ’Ee are right there,” thoughtfully said Tom. “I 
tell ’ee, boys, build a small raft in each breast but ’ee 
must come across by the rope or the blankets will 
get wet, and we may need them. Now I’ll go ahead 
to find Mike and ’ee come just as quickly as ’ee can.” 
The boss left them and disappeared into another head- 
ing leading into the second breast of that gangway. 
This breast he likewise swam ; and thus swimming the 
breasts, climbing the manways and passing through 
the headings, he reached the breast of Gusha. Up the 
manway he went searching the headings and shout- 
ing aloud the name of Mike. At the top or face of the 
breast he almost stumbled over the apparently inani- 
mate form of the imprisoned Hungarian. An army of 
rats, great Norway rats, scampered away, squeaking, 
into the darkness. A shudder went through the frame 
of the boss as he stooped down and shook the man 
by the shoulder. There was no response to the effort 
and then he perceived blood on the prostrate man’s 
head; and by a closer examination, saw that his ear 
was partly gnawed off by the rats. 

“Poor fellow, they were ready to eat ’im up,” 
groaned the boss. The rats gaining courage from the 
silence grew bolder and approached closer, whereupon 


112 


BOSS TOM. 


Tom hurled great pieces of coal at them that scared 
them back and with crashing, bumping, reverberating 
sound, rattled down the breast and plunged with a dull, 
muffled splash into the water below. 

“Wish I ’ad the whiskey,” thought the boss as he 
began to chafe the hands of the prostrate man. 

“Hallo, Tom, hallo-o-o-o, Tom,” came voices from a 
distance. Tom lifted up his head and shouted back, 
“ ’Allo-o-o; I’ve found ’im; ’urry up.” 

The noise of many feet was heard ascending the 
manway; lights were seen bobbing and flashing be- 
low him ; then the sound of voices and on came the 
crowd of rescuers. 

“Is he hurt, Tom?” came from all sides. 

“He must ’ave fallen and ’urt ’is ’ead,” responded 
Tom. Blankets were placed under the unconscious 
man and a little brandy forced between his teeth. There 
was the returning flush of life in his face and more 
brandy was given him. “They would ’ave eaten ’im 
alive if I hadn’t come in time,” whispered Tom to 
Clyde, as they chafed his hands and wrists. 

“What, rats?” asked Clyde. 

“Yes, rats; look at his ear.” 

Mike now opened his eyes and a half insane look, 
terrifying, appeared in them which gradually disap- 
peared. “Mr. Tom,” he murmured. 

Boss Tom grasped his hand while he smiled through 
a mist that gathered in his eyes. “ ’E are all right, 
now, Mike,” he said reassuringly. 

More brandy was given to him and he sat up and 
spoke a little. He never knew that the water was in 
until he went below for a piece of bread. He had 
sent the laborer for a pick at the blacksmith’s shop. 
When he went down the manway he had found the 
gangway almost full. He became scared and crawled 
up to the face of the breast. The oil was in the first 
heading, and it was soon covered with water so that 
he could not get at it. His lamp burnt out for want of 
oil and he had been in darkness for hours. The rats 


BOSS TOM. 


113 


were running and squeaking about, and in moving in 
the darkness he had fallen and remembered nothing 
more. Such was the information they gleaned from 
him as they sparingly gave him food. After he had 
partaken a little they helped him down the manway, 
for he was very weak, and then carried him through 
the heading. In the next breast they found a large 
crowd of miners. There was laughter and smiles and 
shouts when it was realized that Mike was alive, 
though very weak. What joy there was on all sides! 
A raft was in waiting for the injured man and he was 
placed upon it and pushed across. On the other side, 
another crowd of miners were waiting and it was 
with the utmost effort that Tom prevailed upon them 
to not smother Mike in their eagerness to shake hands 
with him. Tom scolded, and the joyous fellows 
laughed and capered. A raft, in accordance with 
Tom’s instructions, had been made in each breast and 
by the aid of these he was ferried across, while willing 
hands carried him through the headings. The great 
bulk of rescuers clambered across the breasts above 
the dark flood by means of the ropes stretched from 
prop to prop ; like monkeys they appeared, the lights 
on their caps bobbing and flaming and they them- 
selves chattering and joking in the excess of their glee. 
The somber sadness of the night and day before was 
ended, and they were but experiencing the reaction. 

About eleven o’clock the rescuers with their charge 
appeared upon the surface. An immense crowd awaited 
them and sent up a shout that rent the heavens 
upon the first sight of the pale-faced and exhausted 
Mike. Mrs. Gusha laughed and cried. The Hungar- 
ians and others threw up their caps and cheered again 
and again. Boss Tom and McCue smiled cheerfully 
and something like a tear appeared in the eye of the 
former as they viewed the scene. When there ap- 
peared upon a stump the figure of a bold, blue-eyed, 
red-haired man, and there was enthusiasm in his very 
gaze. ’Twas Red Jerry Andra. 


BOSS TOM. 


ii4 


“Men,” he shouted, “three cheers for our superin- 
tendent, who worked the skin off his hands turning the 
creek and saved the mine from being completely 
drowned out,” and he pointed to the figure of McCue. 

The cheers were heartily given. 

“And three cheers for our old boss, Tom Penhall,” 
continued Jerry, “who didn’t eat a bite for twenty- 
four hours and didn’t rest ’is arm until Mike was 
brought to the surface.” 

Again the air was rent with the cheering of hun- 
dreds, and then old Tom, worn with exertion, his coun- 
tenance blackened with toil and the grime of powder 
smoke, and his garments still wet with his swimming 
the breast-floods, held up a coal blackened hand for 
silence. There was a glorious light on his rugged hon- 
est countenance, and they were all hushed into silence. 

“Lads, les give thanks to God.” The Rev. Kossuth 
Husser, who had not quit the scene, taking the hint, 
lifted up his hands and said in simple English : “Let us 
pray.” 

Notwithstanding mud and the pools of water, the 
Hungarians dropped on their knees ; the others bowed 
their heads reverently, and Husser gave vent to a 
prayer of devout thankfulness. But the English was 
not adequate enough for his purpose, and so after a 
few minutes he swept with the force of a tornado into 
the Slavonian tongue. It seemed that that tongue was 
never so dignified as then in the ears of all present, “A 
Jargon,” Tom had often said to himself as he heard 
two or more uncouth foreigners jabbering between 
themselves. But now, how different! The words of 
the prayer in the Hungarian tongue rolled like the 
sweet cadences of some great organ from the tongue of 
the scholarly, devoted priest. His figure became more 
dignified and expanded as the prayer rose and fell; 
the voice of the priest became stronger and more reso- 
nant and as the utterance of his prayer rolled on, his 
audience bowed their heads still lower until it seemed 
that an old prophet of Judea had emerged from the 


BOSS TOM. 


115 


gloom of the past to pray for nineteenth century 
people. 

The prayer was ended. “Amen,” said Boss Tom and 
old Dicky Curnow in half audible tones. The priest 
held his hands out in benediction, and the people re- 
turned in gladness to their homes. Boss Tom, though 
weary, hurried along with buoyant steps, a glad light 
on his coal blackened features. When near home the 
sun that had been hidden for the whole day burst forth 
into a glorious splendor of light from behind the 
clouds, as if rejoicing in the joy of Mayoton’s popu- 
lace ; and old Tom, as if his feeling within must be let 
out in song, began humming his old favorite, — 

“Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem, 
Washed in the blood of the Lamb.” 


116 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XI. 

GOSSIP. 

I T was some months after the drowning out of the 
mine of Mayoton and the mines had again re- 
sumed. It was Mrs. Penhall that was speaking. 
Mrs. Penhall was the wife of Boss Tom Penhall and 
was consequently listened to with a great deal of re- 
spect by her auditors. In addition to her husband’s 
position, she lived in Quality Row and was considered 
a little better than the ordinary residents of the town 
of Mayoton. She was a good-natured, plain, English 
woman with a thrifty housewifely air and a trifle 
sharp and quick in her manner of utterance. There 
were also present Mrs. Dolan, the wife of breaker Boss 
Dolan, an Irish woman whom her daughter Mary very 
much resembled. Mrs. Dolan, since she lived in the 
row of unpainted houses behind the coal breaker, 
(“forninst the breaker” as Jimmy O’Donnel said) could 
not lay claim to the same prestige socially as could 
Mrs. Penhall, who lived in one of the large red houses 
of Quality Row. Mrs. Penryn was likewise present. 
Indeed it was Mrs. Penryn’s own home in which 
they were all assembled, or rather in the shanty kitch- 
en of the same. Mrs. Penryn felt highly honored to 
thus entertain Mrs. Penhall and Mrs. Dolan, for were 
not their husbands bosses and did not Mrs. Penhall 
live in Quality Row? Mrs. Dolan was more upon an 
equality. True, her husband was a boss and Mr. Pen- 
ryn was an ordinary miner, but the row behind the 
breaker was not considered as esthetic a place of 
residence, nor as calculated to elevate one to 
a higher position of social prestige in the little com- 
munity as the location of the Penryn home. The 


BOSS TOM. 


117 


houses behind the breaker were not painted, and most 
of them possessed neither fences nor the semblance 
of fences. Certainly Mrs. Dolan’s home was larger 
and more convenient than the others, but, in point of 
respectability and pride, the locality was below the 
Penryn neighborhood. Mrs. Dolan felt it keenly and 
it had been her fond desire, for quite a long time, to 
dwell in a place in better keeping with her husband’s 
position as a boss. 

One, and not the least of the objections to their 
present neighborhood, was the fact of its being the 
favorite rendezvous of those bold, sagacious quadru- 
peds, the goats of the Hungarians and Italians. These 
venturesome, esthetic creatures found the laurel 
crowned eminence in the rear of the breaker row a 
perfect Eden of delight, prolific with edible ash-heaps 
and appetizing, discarded tin tomato cans. In the 
halcyon days of spring, these sequestered laurel groves 
were the haunts of the whole tribe. Here with atten- 
uated bodies and pendulous beards, oscillating in the 
gentle breeze, they would gaze longingly and placidly 
upon the lines of laundry in the yards below, in the 
meantime delectably nibbling and digesting the edi- 
torial pages of some choice, yellow newspapers. There 
was constant battle between the women of the row 
and these animals, in which conflicts, though the latter 
were frequently victorious, the rights of belligerents 
were denied them. Their attacks were mainly con- 
ducted in Indian style. Wandering, apparently unde- 
signedly in close proximity to the rows of white drap- 
ery they would, when the guards were removed, nib- 
ble cautiously at the forbidden feast to be only finally 
driven away with angry words and blows; whereupon 
they would betake themselves with haste to the hill 
region, and bleat out their defiance and indignation, 
or quietly ruminate upon the depravity and ferocious- 
ness of mankind. The contests were not all retreats, 
however, for ofttimes a war-like Billy would champion 
the cause of his companions and like the good old 


118 


BOSS TOM. 


knights of chivalry would dare the enemy to single 
combat. Indeed Billy was not always chivalrous, for 
once noticing Mrs. Gallagher bending over the clothes- 
basket, he charged boldly and had it not been for her 
husband, Mike, the story might have ended otherwise. 
Mike, hearing the war-cry of Bridget, rushed out, 
and, to use his own expression, “basted the baste.” 
Mrs. Dolan seeing the affair, had another argument to 
use upon her husband. 

“The goats are all roight, shure, only give thim a 
fair show,” Dolan had said between the puffs of his 
pipe when the affair was mentioned to him. 

“Show,” said Mrs. Dolan in indignation, “would you 
have had Mike Gallagher not to have interfered when 
his poor wife was getting almost killed?” 

“What I mane,” said Peter stoically, “is that the 
goats should be housed and fed loike other animals and 
they wouldn’t be so ruffianlike.” Boss Dolan was not 
so esthetic in his taste as his better half, and neither 
did he care for the social prestige that a residence in 
Quality Row would confer upon his wife. All he knew 
and cared was that he had a comfortable home close 
to the breaker, his place of work, and these things 
sufficed for him. 

So it was that Mrs. Penryn, in the gathering of the 
present occasion," esteemed Mrs. Dolan upon a par 
with herself on account of residence. Mrs. Penhall 
was, however, looked up to with attention since un- 
deniably socially she was on a higher plane. 

Mrs. Penhall was speaking and was speaking sharp- 
ly, too. “Yes, and that Mrs. Phillips is one of the most 
careless, extravagant women in the whole town. Tom 
tells me that her husband, who has the contract in the 
gangway, has generally a pay of from seventy to a 
hundred dollars a month and yet she spends every cent 
of it.” 

“I know that she is very extravagant, but who would 
have thought that she could have spent all of that 
money in one month, too,” said Mrs. Penryn. 


BOSS TOM. 


119 


“She spends too much upon herself and dresses 
those girls of hers up like fashion plates — to catch fel- 
lows, no doubt. I hear that that Belle is trying to 
catch your George, Mrs. Penryn,” said Mrs. Dolan. 

Mrs. Penryn flushed and said that George was too 
sensible to be caught by dress and finery alone. 

“They try to imitate their betters,” said Mrs. Pen- 
hall, with a toss of her head, “but they have got to 
learn yet that fine feathers never did make fine birds.” 

“I must say she’s a foolish woman. Suppose her 
husband should get hurt or killed, what would she do 
then?” said Mrs. Penryn in a grave tone. 

“Do,” said Mrs. Penhall, “she would be compelled 
to throw off her fine clothes and take in washing, and 
the girls would have to do the same ; they can’t sew.” 

“Such a shame! and Mr. Phillips such a nice man 
and he works so hard ; sometimes he comes home wet 
with sweat,” murmured sympathetic Mrs. Dolan. 

“She never ought to buy so much out of the com- 
pany store ; buy a little in town ; but there are so many 
miners’ wives that are careless, perhaps because they 
never pay cash but have it put down upon the book 
and kept out of their husbands’ wages,” said Mrs. Pen- 
ryn. 

“I’m afraid that Mrs. Phillips will regret her raising 
of Belle; look at Mrs. Thomas, she can’t put a patch 
upon her husband’s clothes. I tell you I don’t like to 
gossip and pick flaws in one’s neighbors, but it pro- 
vokes me. I’ll tell them both when I meet them, 
though Tom tells me not to,” said Mrs. Penhall. 

“Now there’s our Mary,” interjected Mrs. Dolan, 
“She can teach school and earn her own living.” 

“I taught Alice to sew the first thing,” said Mrs. 
Penhall. 

“Oh, Mary and Alice, they are the best girls in 
town. If Belle and Mrs. Thomas would take a les- 
son from them, it would be better,” said Mrs. Penryn. 

“Poor Ned,” murmured Mrs. Dolan, “his mother 
warned him against going with that girl ; but he mar- 


120 


BOSS TOM. 


ried her and it didn’t matter what they said. She 
wouldn’t thank you either for telling her anything. 
Thomas and Phillips deserve better wives.” 

“Well, if Phillips would do as Ned does — ” jerked 
out Mrs. Penhall and then she checked herself as if 
she had said too much. 

“Why,” said Mrs. Dolan, “how’s that?” 

“I said something that I hadn’t ought to tell,” slow- 
ly responded Mrs. Penhall, “for Tom told me in con- 
fidence.” 

“Oh, we won’t tell,” said Mrs. Dolan coaxingly. 

“Well, since I ’ave told some I suppose I may as 
well tell all, but mind, you mustn’t breathe this to any 
one.” Both her auditors nodded their heads and drew 
their chairs a little closer as they prepared to listen. 

“Mind,” said Mrs. Penhall, impressively, “for Tom 
would be very angry should he hear this again.” 

Renewed assurances were given and Mrs. Penhall 
began : 

“You know how wasteful Ned Thomas’ wife is. 
She spends every cent that he earns ; she allows the 
children to waste food and they eat everything up at 
once, and so her husband never draws a cent. Tom 
told me that he turns in five extra days a month more 
than his laborer works and then his laborer gives him 
the money afterward and he puts it in the bank, and 
so he’s trying to save money. But he couldn’t do it 
if his wife knew it was there. She thinks that his 
whole pay is marked on his check. If Phillips would 
do that, he would be able to save some money too.” 

There were expressions of indignation from both 
auditors. 

“She is certainly a pretty woman that her husband 
has to do that in order to save some money,” asserted 
Mrs. Dolan. 

The conversation went on. Molly Penryn excused 
herself and went into the house, the main building. 
She was absent but a short time and then returned. 

“Come now and have a cup of tea ; the table is 


BOSS TOM. 


121 


set.” They all three left the shanty kitchen and en- 
tered the main room of the house where Molly had set 
out some of her prettiest dishes upon a snowy cloth. 

“How pretty,” ejaculated Mrs. Dolan. And it did 
look pretty. The cups and saucers of delicate Eng- 
lish china, were adorned around the edges with va- 
rious designs of delicately tinted roses and leaves. 
Mrs. Penryn smiled, well pleased. What woman does 
not like her dishes to be admired? 

“Where did you get them?” asked Mrs. Dolan. 

“They came from England. I always think the tea 
tastes better when you drink it out of a china, a real 
china cup, — one that you can see through,” said Molly. 

Mrs. Penryn cut the bread and poured the tea and 
then they all sat down. 

“I shall tell Peter to buy me some china dishes,” 
said Mrs. Dolan, “I do believe the tea tastes better, 
as you said.” 

There was a general smile at this remark of Mrs. 
Dolan. 

“Do you know, Mrs. Penryn, that some people call 
you the model housekeeper?” added Mrs. Dolan. 

“I never heard of it.” 

“Well, it’s true. Jimmy O’Donnel came in one day 
and said he admired your rag-carpet, and that you 
were a model housekeeper,” said Mrs. Dolan. 

“Well, so she is,” said Mrs. Penhall ; “look at the 
house, all neat and clean ; the furniture and everything 
plain but comfortable and, Mrs. Dolan, I never saw 
her yet in the evening without a white collar on.” 

“Oh, now, you mustn’t flatter me. I’ve seen some 
hard times. You know how Ned was hurt in the 
mines ; then he had the rheumatism ; well, he was in 
the house over a year and no money coming in, but 
three dollars a week, lodge money, and they even cut 
that down after the six months to a dollar and a half a 
week. Doctor’s bills, rent, coal and store-bill amounted 
to a big sum. It was necessary to be economical 


122 


BOSS TOM. 


and that’s why everything is plain, you know. As for 
the collar, Ned likes to see it on me and so I wear it.” 

“You don’t do yourself justice, Molly,” said Mrs 
Penhall, “you worked and then you paid every cent 
of that big store bill, nearly a hundred dollars.” 

“Well, we owed it, we don’t deserve credit for that.” 

“ ’Deed you do,” said Mrs. Dolan, “and your house 
is quite cosy.” 

“Yes, and everything in the house, either she or Mr. 
Penryn made,” added Mrs. Penhall. 

“I like to see that,” said Mrs. Dolan. “I have a large 
family and only Peter working, and yet I manage to 
put a little in the bank. A wife ought to be careful. 
It helps a man along when he knows that some little 
woman is at home doing all she can to make home 
comfortable and save some money.” 

“Such a woman is a helpmate, as the Bible says,” 
said Molly. 

“Changing the subject for a moment,” ejaculated 
Mrs. Penhall, “it is rumored that McCue will leave 
soon.” 

“You don’t say so,” said Mrs. Penryn in surprise. 

“No, I only say it is rumored.” 

“I hope not,” said Mrs. Dolan, thoughtfully, “we’ll 
never get a better one.” 

“Yes, see how he worked with the shovel when that 
Hungarian was shut in the mines,” said Mrs. Penhall. 

“What is the trouble between him and Hoyt?” asked 
Molly. 

“Hoyt thinks more money ought to be made.” 

“I hope they’ll not cut the wages,” said Mrs. Pen- 
ryn in alarm. 

“Don’t borrow trouble,” said Mrs. Penhall. 

“I wish those rich men would think a little about 
us ; they have so much and we have so little and some- 
times it seems they want a part of our little,” sadly 
said Mrs. Penryn as she thought of the little white 
house with the green shutters and the grape vine. 


BOSS TOM. 


123 


“Oh, that is only a rumor,” interjected Mrs. Dolan. 
“Where’s Nellie?” 

Light steps were heard coming around the house 
and in a moment more in came the black-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked maiden, who smiled and nodded pleasantly. 

“Ah, here is the fairy,” said Mrs. Penhall. 

Nellie laughed — a gay, ringing little laugh, that 
made music in the house, and then said : “Alice would 
like to see you about the dress, Mrs. Penhall.” 

The little party arose and after inviting Mrs. Pen- 
ryn up to take tea with them, the two women de- 
parted. 


124 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XII. 

MISMATED. 

M ARRIAGE is one of the most sacred institu- 
tions of God and is conducive to happiness and 
longevity. “It is not good that man should 
be alone,” says the sacred narrative and yet better 
alone than a misalliance. A judicious amount of com- 
mon sense before the contract is formed is far prefer- 
able to a whole cargo of the philosophy of experience ; 
a benedict knows afterward what he should have 
known before. Are marriages made in heaven? 
Surely not always for it seems that ofttimes they are 
made under the dominion of his Satanic Majesty, who 
desires an outpost of his court here on earth. Mar- 
riages are made under the auspices of heaven when 
heaven is importuned beforehand as to the results, 
and then man is to use his judgment. The average 
course is not so, however. The fond lover, — either 
the Romeo or Juliet, — thinks there is heaven enough 
on earth during the period of doves and orange blos- 
soms without ever beseeching a blessing from heaven 
in addition. And yet how much of evil could be 
averted, if in the primary stages judgment should be 
used, heaven importuned, and “Be ye not unevenly 
yoked together,” dwelt on. 

The qualities of mind and heart, the disposition 
and training, heredity and family traits, all should 
be considered. A wife suitable for a farmer would 
not suit a professional man. Neither would a spend- 
thrift suit one desirous of having a large bank ac- 
count. A Christian man with a bad cook for a wife 
will in time have dyspeptic religion, and a wife with 


BOSS TOM. 


125 


a shrewish temper will in time make her husband 
as shrewish as herself, or cause him to lose what 
little manly spirit he has. 

Some marry for love and get what they seek and 
little else. Some marry for love and money and get 
neither. Some marry for love without judgment and 
receive a little of each in return. Tennyson’s North- 
ern Farmer was right, when he cautioned his son 
about marrying the parson’s lass for the highly cul- 
tured girl would not have suited the country bumpkin. 
In all cases judgment should be used in reference to 
all things and especially to habits and training. A 
spendthrift man may have his habits offset by a sav- 
ing woman but when both are spendthrifts, — the poor- 
house is in sight. 

Ned Thomas, jolly, fun-loving Ned, scarcely came 
under any of these heads. He had not married for 
money for he had gotten little of that commodity, 
neither had she. He had not married judiciously. He 
had neither considered heredity nor personal nor fam- 
ily traits. Mrs. Thomas was infinitely below his own 
position in life and below the intellectual and social 
standing of his own family. Ned had a fair education ; 
his wife had none. He was thrifty and generous, — 
yes, generous to a fault. Had a tramp asked him for 
a dime he would have given him a dollar. When a 
boy working in the tannery, he often gave half his 
dinner to a prowling, sad-eyed dog on the plea, that, 
as he said, “The dog must have dinner.” Mrs. 
Thomas was just the opposite; she was selfish, indo- 
lent, extravagant, a poor housekeeper and a wretched 
cook and the result was that a bank account was a 
thing only existing in the imagination. Pay after pay 
came, and good pays, but, beyond handsome furniture, 
there was very little else to show. There was no sur- 
plus bank account to be utilized on a rainy day. Ned 
was always poorly clad and his clothes seldom 
mended. Twice as much food was used as would suffice 
a family twice as large, — the result of wastefulness and 


126 


BOSS TOM. 


extravagance. No other man but good-natured, humor- 
ous Ned would have stood it long and even his temper 
was, at times, sadly ruffled. But Ned could not remain 
angry long; that was contrary to his disposition. 
Ned’s parents had warned him of the ills attending 
his intended misalliance, but Ned had not stopped 
to consider and so the marriage was consummated. 

It was supper time at the Thomas home. The table 
had been set out in the kitchen and poorly cooked 
viands were heaped up in boundless profusion. The 
coffee had been burnt for half an hour and Mrs. 
Thomas, with her hair all tousled and awry and her 
form arrayed in a faded, slatternly dress, was ready 
for the evening meal. The children were clamorous 
for their supper and were reaching indiscriminately 
for the various things. The youngest child was sick 
with the measles and was bewailing itself in the next 
room. Ned was weary and cross, for in his changing 
to clean clothes, he found his trousers, that had been 
unmended for the week past, were still in their former 
dilapidated condition. 

“Annie, why don’t you mend these trousers? Here 
I have been for the last week wearing a pair that a 
Hunk would be ashamed to be seen in.” 

“Well, I will mend them tomorrow.” 

“Yes, that is what you said yesterday and the day 
before and still they are in the same old shape. There’s 
no dependence to be placed in your word.” 

Annie said nothing in reply but moped in silence 
over her coffee. Her silence nettled Ned more. 

“And why don’t you try to hush that baby? This 
is a pretty home to come to after a hard day’s work! 
There you are moping in that dirty, old dress. The 
children are never half dressed and my clothes are 
never mended. When I was single it wasn’t like this. 
It makes a man regret that he ever married or had 
more sense in doing it.” 

“Yes, that’s the way it always is,” said Annie in a 
petulant tone. “I can’t do anything to please you ; I 


BOSS TOM. 


127 


know one thing, that I had it better myself when I 
was single and my troubles only began when I mar- 
ried into your family.” 

The last remark was like a firebrand to Ned, for if 
there was one thing that he was proud of, it was his 
own family, the family of his father. The Thomases 
could point back to a long line of ancestors on the 
other side of the water. Indeed there was a good bit 
of truth in the dim tradition that one of Ned’s fore- 
bears was a knight-in-arms and an attendant upon 
the Black Prince. 

“My family,” replied Ned, with some heat, “is a 
great deal better than the family I married into. I, 
if I were you, would be the last one to talk of family, 
for every one knows what your family was and is. 
Family,” and Ned snorted in disgust. 

“I won’t have anything said against my family,” 
flaring up instantly, “they are just as good as yours 
and are just as much respected.” 

“Your family,” 3aid Ned with a sneer, — “Humph!” 

Annie cast an angry, sulky look at Ned. 

“There’s my check,” continued Ned. “There’s only 
a dollar or so upon it to my credit. There would be 
a great deal more if you would be a little careful and 
wouldn’t buy so much out of the store. Penryn drew 
sixty dollars after his store bill was paid, and we could 
draw as much if I ’ad a careful wife like Penryn has.” 

Annie pushed back her cup and began to whimper 
and cry, which Ned after a period of silence was un- 
able to bear. 

“There, there, Annie. Perhaps I was a trifle too 
hard upon you. Don’t be crying now. I’m going out 
to mend my mining shoes and see if you can’t clean up 
a bit while I’m in the shanty.” 

Ned kissed his wife but she made no move to fix up 
but sat in sullen silence. There was a clang of the 
front gate and Ned glancing through the window 
caught a glimpse of Mrs. Penhall and Mrs. Dolan. 

“Here comes Mrs. Penhall and Mrs. Dolan. Try 


128 


BOSS TOM. 


and see if you can’t stir around and tidy up a bit before 
they come in. We can’t help the past but we’ll try and 
do what we can in the future to save and make things 
more comfortable.” But Ned’s protestations were of 
no avail and, seeing that things could not be bettered, 
he hurried out to the shanty to repair his mining shoes, 
leaving Annie to do as she pleased. A few moments 
later there was a rap at the door and going to it, as 
she was, she opened it and greeted her visitors. 

“How do you do, Mrs. Thomas. We thought that 
we would run in and see how the little one is,” said 
Mrs. Penhall, as they both entered. 

“Little Ned is about the same as he was,” answered 
Annie as she handed her visitors chairs. 

“Aren’t you feeling well?” asked Mrs. Dolan as she 
gazed at Annie’s tearful face and then swept a glance 
around the disordered room. The children had taken 
advantage of their mother’s abstracted condition to 
help themselves more freely to the good things in 
sight. The sugar bowl had been upset in their efforts 
and having satisfied themselves with its contents they 
were proceeding to clean up the jelly bowl. 

“It’s Ned who has been scolding me,” said Mrs. 
Thomas, with a whimper, as if she had been exceed- 
ingly ill-treated and forthwith, she began a long array 
of grievances against her husband, pouring her fancied 
wrongs into the ears of her auditors. 

“Ned shouldn’t have scolded you like that, but then, 
if I were you, I wouldn’t give him a chance to find 
fault with me,” said Mrs. Penhall. “Besides, poor Ned 
is tired ; we must make a little allowance when a man 
comes home after working hard all day. Now, I would 
mend them trousers tomorrow and try and save some 
money this month. Don’t buy so much out of the com- 
pany store. The things are dear enough and when 
one buys so much there’s little left. I would fix up a 
little too. I know how my Tom likes to see me tidied 
up when he comes home in the evening. A man that 
works all day likes to see his wife in a clean dress and 


BOSS TOM. 


129 


the children nice and clean. Now you try it and see if 
Ned doesn't stop scolding. Tom always likes to see 
everyone clean and nice in the evening. Why, even 
Allie must put on a clean dress for Tom when he 
comes home.” 

“Peter is just like that, too,” said Mrs. Dolan, as she 
emerged from the inner room with little Ned in her 
arms, whom she had quieted. “He likes to see me 
and Mary fixed up nice when he comes home. He 
says that he sees dirt enough in the breaker without 
seeing it in the house, and even a pair of shoes out of 
their place makes him cross ; we have got to be careful 
in buying or we wouldn’t have a cent to draw on pay- 
day, too. McCue is very generous, though, and we 
don’t have to buy in the store if we don’t want to, or, 
at least, we don’t have to buy as much as the people at 
the Lowland mines and the Meadow mines.” 

“I hear that McCue is going to leave,” said Mrs. 
Thomas, trying to turn the conversation, for though 
she had a great deal of respect for Mrs. Penhall and 
Mrs. Dolan, yet she didn’t relish advice from them 
for they seemed to be blaming her instead of sympa- 
thizing with her. 

“I hope not,” said Mrs. Penhall, “for all the men 
like him and he’s the best superintendent that we ever 
had.” 

“True,” said Mrs. Dolan, nodding her head affirm- 
atively, “and I hope he stays. One can save money 
under him, and dear knows we need ready money as 
much as anybody. Mary must go off to school and 
finish her education, too, for she’s through the com- 
mon schools this spring.” 

“And is Mary going to teach?” asked Annie. 

“If she can get a school sometime.” 

“Well, our Allie is going to keep on with her music. 
Whether she’ll teach music I don’t know. Tom would 
rather have her at home than away,” said Mrs. Penhall. 

The conversation drifted from one topic to another 
until it was in Mrs. Penhall’s parlance “time to go.” 


130 


BOSS TOM. 


“Did you ever, Mrs. Dolan, see things in a worse 
state than in that home?” 

“I never.” 

“No wonder that Ned scolds her sometimes. I hope 
that our visit did some good.” 

“It’s hard to bend a stick like that,” responded Mrs. 
Dolan as they wended their way up the street. 


BOSS TOM. 


131 


CHAPTER XIII. 

BOSS TOM’S LAST LESSON. 

HEY boys are getting ahead of me, Allie, and 



I think that they can get along without my ’elp,” 


said old Boss Tom one evening, as they were 
seated in the little cosy sitting-room. Mrs. Penryn 
was busy doing a few finishing touches to the kitchen 
work and Alice and her father were in the middle 
room. A knock was heard at the front door and the 
girl arose to open it. Jimmy and George were on the 
front portico. 

“Is Mr. Penhall in, Miss Alice ?” asked George. 

“Come this way, lads/’ said the hearty voice of the 
boss from the sitting-room, and both lads followed 
Alice, and were greeted kindly by the old boss. “Now, 
Allie, no visiting during school hours,” said her father, 
smiling, and Alice withdrew to the kitchen to assist 
her mother. 

“We were just talking about you boys,” continued 
Tom, “and I was a telling Allie I suppose we’d ’ave to 
give up the lessons and I suppose that this will be the 
last lesson.” 

“Why, how’s that?” asked both lads in amazement 
and regret. 

“Well,” said Boss Tom, with a grin, “ ’ere I ’ave 
been teaching you lads for quite a time and now I be- 
lieve ’ee knaw as much as I do meself and I doant 
think I can teach ’ee much more. Let see, ’ow far ’ave 
’ee advanced?” 

“We are now almost at the end of plain trigonom- 
etry in mathematics,” said George, “but there are 
quite a number of things that we don’t know very 
much about as yet. There’s grammar, for instance.” 


132 


BOSS TOM. 


Boss Tom burst forth into a laugh of merriment. 

“Grammar, I’m afraid, lads, that I can’t teach ’ee 
much in that line. So far our lessons ’ave been mostly 
in the line of figuring, but grammar, — no, — no, — lads, 
— I doant knaw enough about that, — nothing in fact 
meself and can’t teach ’ee anything. Then there’s 
book-keeping and a sight of more studies that come 
handy to bright young' fellows like ’ee are, — but ’ee 
can only get they studies from the schools or from 
some one better informed than old Tom.” 

All were silent for a time and the youths had many 
regrets, especially George, who had enjoyed these 
quiet lessons on mathematics in the cosy sitting-room 
of old Tom. The same cosy room in which they had 
begun their lessons some years before, the same red- 
flowered carpet, the same bright designed table cover, 
were before them. Tom had not changed in his love 
of colors. Mrs. Penhall had often said that Tom had 
fallen in love with a pink dress she wore when young. 
Tom would only laugh when this was mentioned and 
give vent to his oft repeated expression. “Rud is a 
cheerful color and makes un feel good.” 

A mellow gleam of sunshine from the setting sun 
penetrated the half curtained window and deepened 
and reddened the designs of the carpet. The desk was 
standing in its accustomed corner and both lads re- 
membered that Boss Tom sat in the very same position 
as he did when he proposed to them some years ago the 
bettering of their prospects in life. There was the 
same neat olive shade at the window and the same 
spotless lace curtains, and above the desk, gazing down 
lovingly like old friends upon the head of their mas- 
ter, were the same old leather garbed books on mining, 
engineering, surveying, and mathematical science 
in general. They were to leave all these things 
as pupils and both youths felt instinctively that an 
epoch had transpired in their lives, and they were to 
go forth into new fields. 

A knock was heard at the door and Alice came 


BOSS TOM. 


133 


through the room to attend to the newcomer. As she 
swept by in her neat house dress, George thought 
that she had never looked so graceful and attractive, 
and there was a sharp pang in his breast as he realized 
that these lessons were to him something more than 
instruction in the mathematical sciences. He had 
always revered Tom’s daughter, but now he became 
strongly conscious that that reverence had grown 
wonderfully in the last few years. The seeing of her 
every few days when he, accompanied by Jimmy, at- 
tended Tom’s home for instruction, had been a grow- 
ing sense of delight to him ; now he thought there 
would be no further excuse for his seeing her and their 
paths would separate. 

The newcomer was Mary Dolan who had called 
to see Alice upon some matter or other and, while 
Alice entertained her in the parlor, both lads began 
their last lesson under Boss Tom in the sitting-room. 
The boss found both lads dull that evening and slow 
of comprehension but he judged them by his own ex- 
perience. He felt a sincere regret in his heart that 
these lads were going to leave him as pupils. He loved 
them like a father and had enjoyed their weekly visits 
and conversations about the. mysteries of mining sci- 
ence and felt a pang to think that their relations and 
meetings were to cease. He was a little abstracted 
himself as he thought of these things, and imagined 
the lads thought likewise. Both lads did feel regret- 
ful to close their labors at Tom’s improvised school 
but they were also thinking of other things. George 
had his mind partly filled with a vision of feminine 
drapery that had flashed by them to attend to the door 
and Jimmy was busy conjuring up in his mind the 
figure of the owner of a certain musical voice in the 
next room. The lesson at length was over and Tom 
began to give to his pupils of a few years’ standing 
some advice about the future. 

“Now,” he said, as he leaned back in his chair, “I 
suppose that I’ll ’ave to call ’ee graduates but I can’t 


134 


BOSS TOM. 


give ’ee any diplomees ’cept I make them out upon 
blasting paper, for I ’ave used up all the paper about 
the place in figuring,” and Tom gave vent to a peal 
of hearty laughter as he thought of diplomas made 
out upon blasting paper. 

“Diplomees,” he continued more gravely, “don’t 
count for much after all. If ’ee ’ave learning in your 
’ead, it won’t take a bit of paper to tell that it es there, 
and ef ’ee doant ’ave learning in your ’ead, all the di- 
plomees in the world won’t put it there. So that’s 
settled. Now I w r ant to see ’ee lads advance still fur- 
ther. I want ’ee to not only be creditable foremen but 
to ’ave other learning besides, and ’ee must double 
your efforts at night school. Doant spend money in 
foolishness, but save up your money to pay for books 
and schooling. Study and work ’ard and see ’ow far 
’ee can get up in the world. Be ’onest, lads, and sin- 
cere and ef ’ee ever get up to be foreman or ’igher 
and ’ave men to work under ’ee always remember that 
the men aren’t machines. Be ’onest to the employer 
and to the men. Never do anything of which ’ee 
would be ashamed of. Doant cheat the men to please 
the company and doant cheat the company to please 
the men. I would rather lose my job than to cheat 
the most hignorant ’Ungarian under my employ, and 
at the same time I ’ave no use for a good-for-nothing, 
lazy man. And in all your work, lads, doant ’ee forget 
that God is a looking down upon ’ee at all times. 
Now,” and Tom’s face lost its grave form and ex- 
panded into a pleasant, humorous smile, “now since 
’ee are graduates I suppose that ’ee ought to ’ave some 
speeches or horations to make. Hold on a bit; we 
must ’ave an audience,” and Tom, going to the door of 
the parlor, flung it open and called to Mary and Alice 
and then to his wife in the kitchen. 

“Now these lads ’ave been attending the school of 
old Tom and are graduates and as it’s customary to 
make speeches on the last day of school, we thought 
we may ’as well ’ave them ’ere.” 


BOSS TOM. 


135 


Both lads were embarrassed very much at this un- 
expected demand, and the audience and Tom were en- 
joying their embarrassment hugely. George managed 
to shake off his confusion and say something. 

“Mr. Penhall, we didn’t expect that this would be 
the last lesson and so didn’t come prepared to give any 
speeches or orations ; and we are not much accustomed 
to speaking anyway, and I don’t know whether we 
could make them if we had them prepared.” Here 
George coughed a little, as he was in a difficulty 
how to proceed and then he continued. “We want to 
say, Mr. Penhall, that we appreciate your kindness in 
starting us on the way to a higher education, for if you 
had not told us to study we would never have 
begun.” Jimmy here nodded his head emphatically 
and murmured under his breath, as if in confirmation 
of what George was saying. “And we want to say,” 
continued George, “that we shall always remember 
your instructions and kindness and the pleasant times 
we have had here, and if we ever do become anything 
in the future, it will be all due to the efforts of Mr. 
Penhall in these our early days. Jimmy and I were 
talking some time ago that we ought to pay some- 
thing for the time and the trouble that you have ex- 
pended on us, and we thought that we would speak of 
it tonight. We have been saving up a little money 
and we thought that you ought to be paid something, 
— a little better than our gratitude alone,” and here 
George paused and fished up out of his coat pocket a 
few bills of unknown quantity and value. Jimmy also 
did the same and they made a simultaneous offer of 
them to Boss Tom. 

It was Tom’s turn to be embarrassed and what was 
in the beginning a confusing position for the lads 
turned out the same to the boss. To take money 
for the teaching of these lads was far from the 
thoughts of Tom. He would just as soon have taken 
money from a blind beggar. 

“No, no, lads,” he said as he motioned the money 


136 


BOSS TOM. 


away from him. “Keep that to buy books with and 
to pay your schooling at the night school. I will be 
more than repaid ef you lads make good and useful 
men and can get up in the world a little ’igher than I 
am at the present time. No, no, put up your money 
and ef I can ’elp ’ee in the future a bit I will and God 
bless ’ee,” and the boss’ eyes watered mistily. 

“And I want to say, Mr. Penhall,” said Jimmy, 
“that ,we think that there is no man in the town of 
Mayoton that is as good as old Tom, — I mane Mr. 
Penhall, I ask pardon, I forget sometimes me manners. 
And if at any time in the future we can do anything for 
him we will. He ought to be prisident of the United 
States now, and if he ever does come out for an office 
he will git the vote of Jimmy O’Donnel and George 
Penryn, too. We’ll remember ye on Christmas, Mr. 
Tom-a-a — Mr. Penhall, — we will so, and ye will get 
something to remember us by, shure, and — and — ” 
Jimmy sat down as he had exhausted his oratorical 
ability. Tom laughed as did the others at the men- 
tioning of him being the president of the United 
States. 

There was a pause for a moment and then Tom said : 
“Now I suppose that at graduating exercises that they 
’ave a little music and I suppose that we will ’ave to 
’ave it. Allie, suppose we ’ave some singing and we’ll 
join in a bit and sing.” 

The suggestion was accepted and they all adjourned 
to the parlor, where Alice seated herself at the piano 
and asked, “Well, what shall it be?” 

“Give us a little instrumental, first. ’Ow is it, Mary, 
doant they ’ave a little of that at the graduating of the 
schools ?” 

Mary replied that she believed that they did, where- 
upon Alice played a selection from Chopin. But it 
being a little classic, it didn’t suit Tom’s humbler taste. 
After it was finished, Tom expressed himself. 

“Now I doant knaw ’ow that they can call that mu- 
sic. It seemed all rattle and bang from beginning to 


BOSS TOM. 


137 


end. Les ’ave 'Sweeping through the Gates of the 
New Jerusalem/ ” 

“But they don’t have that, father, at the graduating 
exercises,” said Alice mischievously. 

“It doant matter. They ought to ’ave it anyway for 
it is the best tune out and a sight more sense to it 
than all the tweedle doos and dums and bangs of that 
there classic music of what do ’ee call ’im — Mr. Bang 
Bang?” 

“Chopin, (Shopang),” said Alice correcting her 
father in the name of the composer. 

“Show Bang,” reiterated her father, “well, it’s a 
good name and I suppose that they call ’im that ’cause 
there’s lots of show and bang in the music,” and Tom 
smiled at his own humor, and all present laughed. 

The Sunday School hymn book was soon opened 
and they all joined in Tom’s favorite melody. 

“Sweeping through the gates of the new Jerusalem, 

Washed in the blood of the Lamb.” 

Tom according to his custom where he failed to 
remember the words supplied the ever ready substitute 
of “dol de dol.” 

After the singing, there were two other characters 
that came upon the scene almost simultaneously. 
They were Peter Dolan, the breaker boss, and Nellie 
Penryn, George’s sister, tf the two lads, George and 
Jimmy had grown in the last few years, Nellie had 
grown more so. From a little girl of nine years of age 
in two or three years she had grown exceedingly tall. 
Although now a girl of only twelve years of age she 
was fully as tall as many girls of fifteen. Her dark 
curly hair hung in clusters around her head and there 
was a certain shyness in her manner. She had come 
to have Alice help her over her last lesson and also to 
tell brother George that mother wanted him. Boss 
Dolan had heard the singing and had come in to hear 
what it was all about. He had been taking a walk and 
had wandered into the neighborhood of Quality Row. 


138 


BOSS TOM. 


“ ’Ow are ’ee, Dolan. Come in. Just in time to hear 
the graduating exercises of the boys.” 

Dolan had known of Tom’s efforts in teaching the 
two lads. 

“And so they have graduated and are through 
school now?” 

“Yes,” responded Tom, “and we were just having 
remarkable speeches about the president of the United 
States and great subjects in general,” and Tom 
laughed his old hearty laugh. Just then he caught 
sight of Nellie who had stationed herself near Alice. 

“Why, how are ’ee, my dear ; you came in so quiet 
like that I didn’t even see ’ee. You move around as 
light as a spirit. We will ’ave a song from ’ee or an 
instrumental piece after a while.” 

Nellie smiled and gingerly took Tom’s big hand 
that he had extended to her in greeting. 

Jimmy was not overly pleased to see the entrance 
of Peter Dolan for it cut his expectations in the bud. 
He had thought that he would have the pleasure of 
taking Mary home and have a pleasant chat with her 
on the way. He leaned over to George and growled in 
an undertone: “Now bad ses to the ould mahoun. 
He is just like the divil always trying to take hiven 
away from us whin we hev a taste of it. He is that !” 

Just at this moment, Belle Phillips came in with a 
note for Tom from her father, the gangway con- 
tractor, and Tom paused to read it. 

“It’s all right, Belle. You tell your father that I’ll 
see ’im in the morning. And now, George, you ’ad 
better be a going for Nellie says that your mother 
wants ’ee. Always remember, lads, what I told ’ee 
and don’t forget to take up more studies. Both you, 
lads, are now capable of taking the Assistant Mine 
Foreman’s examination but ’ee mustn’t stop there but 
study other things. Study history and science and 
learn to speak before the public. They speeches that 
’ee made ’ere tonight were good for the first time, 


BOSS TOM. 


139 


but keep it up and go to night school and get ahead 
as far as ’ee can.” 

George had no further excuse to remain, and so with 
a good evening all around, he wended his way out 
followed by Belle Phillips, who, having the return mes- 
sage to take to her father, must needs go too. Indeed 
she was glad to go for was not George Penryn going 
her way and would he not be company for her? 
George was secretly vexed in his soul that such was 
the case for he was not only cut out of his merry chat 
with Alice but was thus constrained by courtesy to 
go part way with Belle, whose company he did not 
desire. Jimmy with still a remnant of hope in his 
breast that Mary would start home and that her father 
would remain to have a talk with Boss Tom, still hung 
to that thread of hope, pretending to enjoy the conver- 
sation. But Mary had no intention of going without 
her father and so after a time Jimmy, too, departed in 
some disgust and irritation at the shortsightedness 
of Mary and the “divilish perverse staying qualities 
of her dad,” as he mentally called it. 


140 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE HOUSE “FORNINST THE BREAKER.” 

HE house “forninst the breaker” loomed up 



dark and unpainted in the evening air. It was 


almost o’ershadowed by its gigantic, rambling 
neighbor, that, now silent and deserted, was resting 
from the labors of the day. The monotonous chough, 
chough of the engine was silenced, not a cog or a rope 
moved, all was still, — preparing for the slumber of 
the night. The sun had just gone down and twilight 
was rapidly approaching. 

On the other side of the breaker was a figure slowly 
approaching, seemingly bound for some destination be- 
yond it. The moving figure seemed burdened with 
some mental argument. It was Jimmy O’Donnel. De- 
frauded as he thought he had been of a little chat with 
Mary the night before, he had resolved to call upon her 
that evening at her home “beyant or forninst the 
breaker,” as he sometimes called it. Jimmy was in a 
quandary — a dilemma. He had never ventured to 
openly call upon Mary. He didn’t know what “ould 
man Dolan” would think or possibly do in the event of 
his fathoming his (Jimmy’s) intentions. He could 
call to see whether, — whether — whether. What pretext 
could he think of? But perhaps ould man Dolan would 
be away from home. No, for there he was in the dis- 
tance, seated upon his front portico, his pipe glowing 
brightly in the dull evening light. 

“There he is,” said Jimmy, mentally, “like an ould 
hathen, like an ould he-lion a guarding his den.” He 
thought for a moment. Yes, now he had an idea. He 
was going to pass the mine foreman’s examination. 
He would ask Dolan whether there was no job in or 


BOSS TOM. 


141 


around the breaker that would be in better keeping 
with his future prospects. He hastened his steps and 
drew near the entrance. 

He found the Dolan family all at home. The smaller 
children had retired while the larger boys were racing 
around somewhere in the neighborhood. Mrs. Dolan 
was busy in the parlor, knitting some warm, woolen 
stockings for Peter to wear in the coming winter and 
listening at the same time to Mary, who was essaying 
to play a little waltz that Alice had given her. Dolan 
on the front portico was dividing his attention be- 
tween his pipe and a herd of goats that were wander- 
ing in dangerous proximity to forbidden ground, — 
either attracted by Mary’s music or more probably by 
some luscious cabbages in Dolan’s garden. 

Jimmy was greeted in a friendly manner by Dolan 
and was invited inside by that worthy, who, however, 
put out his pipe before entering the sacred precincts 
of the parlor. Mrs. Dolan would not yield to Peter in 
this one respect. 

She would have no pipe smoking in her best room 
and Peter, invincible in other respects, yielded in this 
one. 

“I thought that I would come over this evening, 
Mr. Dolan, to see whether there were any positions 
that might be vacant that would suit the likes of me. 
Ye see, now that there is some chance of me passing 
the Assistant Mine Foreman’s Examination, I thought 
that I should be a looking around to get a job more 
suiting to me education.” 

Dolan paused for a moment and then spoke. 

“And have ye seen Tom?” 

The question staggered the youth for a moment and 
then his native shrewdness came to his aid. “No, for 
I knew that Tom had no vacancies at the prisint time 
and so I thought that mayhap there would be a posi- 
tion over around here, so I did.” 

Dolan still continued in some thought during which 
Jimmy greeted the rest of the family. 


142 


BOSS TOM. 


“Good evening, Mrs. Dolan, and I hope that I see 
ye well. Good evening, Miss Mary, and how are ye 
tonight.” Both responded to the greetings and shook 
hands with the lad, who was delighted to hold the 
hand of Mary a trifle longer than was necessary. 

“No,” finally responded Dolan, “there be no vacant 
jobs at the prisint, but there may be after a while. I 
agree wid ye, Jimmy, that the laborer in the mines 
after he has passed the examination ought to hev a 
higher job, but then there is something that perhaps 
ye have not thought of and that is that ye are a trifle 
young as yet to have a job over men that are twice yer 
age ; but, av course, ye can remedy that in time, shure. 
That is wan thing that the public is against ; now 
there’s Mary, that in the point of education is fit to 
tach school but she’s under age a bit.” 

“Oh, father, I shall be eighteen in a month or so, and 

then there are others that are teaching that are under 



age. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Dolan, “and Mary is tall for her 
age and could easily pass for a year or so older than 
she is.” 

“No,” said Dolan, as he shook his head in disappro- 
bation of the thought implied in his wife’s language, “I 
niver yet falsified before the Boord and I won’t do it 
even fer me own daughter to get a school. I will tell 
thim the exact circumstances, and thin if they want to 
put her in, they may.” 

“There are a great many others that do a deal worse 
to get their favorites in. I know of some and so do you, 
Peter, that have their homes well furnished just by 
the applicants fer schools, and their education isn’t 
nearly equal to our Mary’s. There’s even the town- 
ship superintendent that — .” Her conversation was 
here interrupted by an indignant snort from Peter. 

“Ah ! ye may talk about the rottenness of state pol- 
itics and the rule of the machine but it’s nothing to the 
corruptness of our Boords. I am sorry that I iver run 
and got ilicted, so I am, for the public will think that 


BOSS TOM. 


143 


Peter Dolan, honest Peter, as they sometimes calls 
me, will be as corrupt as the rest.” 

Here Mrs. Dolan gave a warning glance at her hus- 
band for, though she had given vent to the same senti- 
ments a short time before, they seemed more harmful 
coming from Peter. 

“Ye needn’t be afraid of Jimmy,” said Peter, for he 
had seen the look of his wife. “Jimmy is honest and 
can be depinded upon not to carry tales. Ye see, Jim- 
my, being upon the Boord, I know many things that 
could make a deal of trouble, and I were so minded to 
tell. But ye don’t like to put your frinds in the law 
courts and disgrace thim foriver and so I have held me 
peace, but it’s common rumor that the School Boords 
and the like don’t do things straight, and it’s done so 
quiet like of’times that the law couldn’t hold thim if 
they were caught. Now there’s even our superintend- 
ent, that’s a man of some education, that suggested to 
me afore his iliction that perhaps I naded a new stove. 
I knew what he were driving at and I put him off. I 
said that whin I naded a new stove I had money to 
buy it. It were that that made me vote against him, 
fer I thought that a man that would even hint at a 
thing loike that weren’t fit fer the job. And now,” 
continued Peter, with a fine touch of sarcasm, “I no- 
tice that Hooley has a new stove and that Smith Jones 
has a new parlor carpet made prisints to thim, but no 
one knows who made the prisints.” 

“Yes, and some get presents of money, too, I’m sure 
of it,” added Peter’s worthy spouse. “Wasn’t it Sup- 
erintendent Gill that said, when he was a school 
teacher, that he would have a school if he had to pay 
fifty dollars for it?” 

“It were that,” said Dolan in answer. 

“If I have to pay money to get a school I don’t want 
any,” said Mary in some spirit. 

“No,” said Dolan, “I niver took money for a school 
as a director and I would be ashamed if any rilitive of 


144 


BOSS TOM. 


mine would do the like. It is just as dishonorable to 
take money as to give in that case.” 

“It is so,” assented Jimmy. This talk was not new 
to the youth for it was common rumor in the village 
of Mayoton and the surrounding districts. 

“It’s the fault of politics sometimes,” added Dolan. 

“How’s that?” asked Jimmy with some interest. 

“If the Republican party gets in power the Demo- 
crat tachers gets turned down, and if the Demo- 
crat party gets in power the Republican tachers gets 
turned down, and the tachers in some districts 
have got to give to a certain party fund. If they don’t 
pay they don’t get no job, unless they buy some di- 
rector. Do you see? It’s the same in the religions. 
If a Catholic Boord gets in power a Protestant tacher 
can’t get in ; and if a Protestant Boord gets in a Cath- 
olic tacher can’t get a job unless, in both cases, money 
is used. It’s a dhirty shame. It is so. A tacher can’t 
stand upon his merit but must have money to back 
him. A tacher to win a school, now-a-days, mustn’t 
have any politics nor religion.” 

“If they were all like you, Peter,” said Mrs. Dolan 
admirably, “things would be honester run.” 

“They would so,” said Peter, stoically and without 
a shade of appreciation for the compliment that his 
wife had paid him. 

“Or if they were all like George Washington,” 
added Jimmy, “He wouldn’t put a man out of office 
though he were his enemy. The best man got the job.” 

“Where did you learn that?” asked Mary in some 
surprise. 

“I’m rading history, now,” said Jimmy, proudly, 
“and I come across a case like that when Washington 
had one job to give away, and there were two min that 
wanted the job. There was a frind of Washington 
and an inimy of Washington that wanted it. Every 
wan said that the inimy wouldn’t get the job but he 
did get it. Washington said that his frind, though a 


BOSS TOM. 


145 


good man, wasn’t fit for the position and the inimy 
was, and so he give it to the inimy.” 

“We nade min like that on the School Boords. We 
do so,” affirmed Dolan. “A tacher ought to be ap- 
pointed solely upon his merits and the boord officers 
ought to be paid for their services a fixed salary, and 
thin there wouldn’t be such a temptation to receive 
bribes.” 

“I heard of some that received seventy and a hun- 
dred dollars for a school,” ventured Jimmy. 

Dolan nodded his head sagaciously. “Well, Mary 
sha’n’t pay any money if she niver gets a school. I 
would rather give her the money and let her spind it 
in some other way.” 

“Mam, the goats are in,” said a voice from the next 
room. 

“Oh ! Peter, the goats !” exclaimed Mrs. Dolan, and 
Peter with a smothered exclamation that sounded like 
“dommed basts,” hustled out, followed by Mrs. Dolan 
and the kitchen force to drive off two or three wander- 
ing Willies and Nannies from the cabbage patch in the 
rear of the house. 

Jimmy never had very much of a regard for those 
bearded quadrupeds up to that time, but ever afterward 
he expressed gratitude for their evening visit to the 
cabbage patch of Peter Dolan, for it enabled him to 
have a short chat with Mary Dolan that was the basis 
for future conversations. When Dolan and his wife 
returned, Mary was a little red and confused but the 
expression of her countenance was not a displeasing 
one. Dolan, in the heat of his anger (for he too was 
beginning to lose patience with the “bastes”) at the 
depredations of the goats, did not notice the manner of 
Mary, and his wife was full of indignation to think 
that two or three of her best carrots and cabbages 
were completely ruined. Peter must get a house down 
in Quality Row, he must for life with them goats 
around was becoming perfectly unbearable ; Peter was 
half inclined to give up the contest and the conven- 


146 


BOSS TOM. 


ience of having a dwelling in the vicinity of his work, 
— the breaker. 

Jimmy now arose to depart and bidding them all 
good evening started homeward through the gloom of 
night that had already cast its somber shadows upon 
the earth. To say that his feelings were a little exalted 
is putting it pessimistically. He walked along with a 
jaunty step, his hat far back upon his head, and at 
length broke out into a cheery whistle and when out 
of sight beyond the dark coal breaker paused a mom- 
ent, flung up his hat in the air and executed a shuffle 
that was half a jig and half a clog. A wistful and sad 
bearded face peered out at him from behind some 
small buildings near the breaker, and caught his view 
for a moment. It was one of the goats that Peter 
had, no doubt, belabored in his wrath. 

“Ah ! ye beautiful image of the divil wid yer horns 
and wagging beard! Ye look frindly like, and true 
ye have been a frind to me this night. I take off me 
hat to ye and thank ye for yer services ; but take care 
and keep out of the reach of Dolan.” 

Jimmy bowed gravely to the goat, which, mistaking 
his courteous action for a movement of opposition, 
made off at a rapid speed. 

“Ah!” said Jimmy to himself, “he’s afraid of the 
very name of Dolan,” and then a thought struck him. 
If Dolan was so cross with a dumb baste for stealing 
a cabbage, how much more would he be cross with 
a fellow for stealing his daughter and that, “unbe- 
knownst to him.” The thought troubled him for a 
moment. He certainly wouldn’t like to be “basted like 
that baste was basted,” and Jimmy was silent for a 
time but the pleasure of the evening and the talk he 
had had with Mary finally occupied all his thoughts 
and he broke again into a cheery whistle and strode 
onwards toward his home. 


BOSS TOM. 


147 


CHAPTER XV. 

OPERATOR HOYT AND OWEN GWYNNE. 

I HAVE sent for you, Mr. Gwynne, to have another 
talk with you about the proposition that you made 
the last time you were here.” 

The speaker was Mr. Arthur Hoyt, and the scene 
was in the study of the operator’s city home. The 
study was elaborately furnished as was indeed all 
parts of the house. A large rug occupied the center 
of the floor. A walnut desk, on which were a few 
books on mining and banking, was beside the window. 
A goodly sized book-case filled with classical liter- 
ature, Greek and Latin and scientific text books, (for 
Mr. Hoyt had profited by their study in his leisure 
moments) occupied one side of the room. On the 
hearth mantle-piece was a bust of Lincoln and one of 
Washington, while the wall above was adorned with 
paintings of rare value. A couch and a few easy 
chairs were located in convenient places. At the op- 
erator’s feet lay a noble mastiff, by name, Caesar. 

Mr. Arthur Hoyt, though a few years older than 
when he last met Gwynne, appeared as young as ever. 
His dark locks were not a shade lighter and there was 
the same dignified poise to the classic head, and the 
same kindly, gentlemanly tone in his utterance. 

Owen Gwynne, who was seated like the operator, 
was altered a trifle and he looked a little older than 
formerly. A stubby, iron-grey beard covered his chin 
and hid some of its square firmness. 

“I have decided,” continued the operator, “to make 
a change in the superintendency of the Mayoton col- 
liery, and I remembered your remarks in the inter- 
view of some years ago, and thought that I would talk 


148 


BOSS TOM. 


it over with you again. Are you still open to an en- 
gagement with me and do you still think that you can 
make the colliery pay as you stated at that time?” 

“One question at a time,” replied Gwynne, smiling. 
“Yes, I am still open to an engagement and I still 
think that I can do now as I said at that time. But if 
you should decide to accept my services, you must give 
me a free hand to conduct matters as I see fit.” 

“Must?” interrogated Hoyt, slightly arching his 
brows. The tone disconcerted Gwynne and he has- 
tened to answer. 

“Well, I have certain plans that I know will succeed, 
if you allow them to go into execution. Of course, 
they will be all laid before you for your approval.” 

“I like that way a little better, — that is, the way of 
putting it,” said Hoyt, a little grimly. “Now, though I 
generally give my superintendents a free hand, I like 
to see how things are going on occasionally, and have 
some say in the conducting of my own property, as a 
man generally likes to have in reference to his own. 
But your plans, if they meet my approval, will be most 
certainly put into execution. Of course, I don’t like to 
be bothered with little matters, but have a general look 
at things in the abstract, and if they satisfy me, I am 
well pleased.” 

“I guarantee that you will be well pleased with the 
plans and especially with the amount of the increased 
profits.” 

“And how about the men? Will they object or kick 
at any of the plans?” 

“You ought to be supreme in the management of 
your own property and, if I was the owner of the mine, 
I should want to run it instead of allowing the men to 
run it.” 

“True,” said Hoyt, flushing a little. “No man shall 
say how I ought to run my own property ; that is my 
own affair.” 

Gwynne had struck the right key-note in the breast 
of Hoyt. Though a just man, there was an element of 


BOSS TOM. 


149 


pride in him and especially in the management of his 
own affairs. 

“But yet, I don’t want any trouble with the men ; I 
want to do what is right with them and they can’t run 
my affairs, but I don’t want any trouble. And you 
think that there will be no disturbance and the men 
will not murmur when these plans of yours go into 
effect ?” 

“They will not; that I can assure you. The plans, 
that are new or radical, will be put into execution 
gradually and not all at once. It will not affect the 
men much. Some of my plans are in operation in 
other collieries and some are new ; the miners never 
complain when anything comes on them gradually. 
You see they become accustomed to it and hardly feel 
it or know it, and it will benefit the company a great 
deal.” 

“What do you propose to do if I give you the po- 
sition?” 

“The specific plans I cannot give in full just now 
until I study the situation, but I can give you the gist 
of my manner of procedure in short order.” 

“Well?” interrogated Hoyt laconically, as he lighted 
a cigar and leaned back lazily preparing to listen with 
attention. 

“I shall endeavor at all times to have the chief 
thought for the company and its welfare above all 
things. The company owns the property and should 
receive as much profits out of it as possible. You know, 
Mr. Hoyt, I am interested in western mining stocks 
and mining somewhat, and I can draw an illustration 
from the mines of the west that will fit the case. You 
are well read, yourself, Mr. Hoyt, on the new methods 
used there at the present time.” 

Hoyt nodded slightly. 

“Well, you know a great many mines out of which 
men made fortunes in the palmy days of forty-nine, 
and the early fifties were abandoned as being entirely 
worked out. Now, some of those same mines are the 


150 


BOSS TOM. 


richest and most productive of any in the region. 
Even the very refuse has been worked over and great 
profits have been realized out of the stuff tffat was 
formerly thrown away as useless. Of course, the ad- 
vent of new and better machinery has been the cause 
of much of the profits, but the principle that was back 
of the machinery was the chief cause. They utilize 
everything that could be utilized. They suffered and 
do suffer nothing to go to waste. Every particle of 
ore, whether copper, gold or silver is taken out by the 
new methods/’ 

“1 see,” said Hoyt, with a smile. “You intend to 
make everything pay and make profits out of every 
department and get the maximum of profits at that. 
Is not that your idea?” 

“You have struck it exactly. Why, Mr. Hoyt, there 
are thousands of dollars that, due to mismanagement 
in the Mayoton colliery, are slipping through the 
hands of the company, that could be saved. The 
owner of a colliery today ought to have profits and 
the maximum of profits from every branch of the in- 
dustry. You are not running the mines out of charity, 
but for profits and the best profits attainable. Now as 
soon as I get upon the field, I shall size up every de- 
partment and see where the profits can be increased 
and stop all leakage. That is, of course, if you decide 
to have me in charge, and with my occupation of the 
position you will have over thirty thousand dollars 
extra profits a month beyond what you have been ac- 
customed to receive.” 

Hoyt’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm under these 
words so glowingly uttered by the speaker, and there 
was that in the firmness of the tone of this man 
Gwynne, that seemed somehow or other to make him 
realize that he would do as he had said. 

“This man is the very fellow that I have been look- 
ing for,” thought Hoyt to himself. “He is bound to 
make those mines pay better.” And then a thought of 
his superintendent then in position, McCue, came 


BOSS TOM. 


151 


across his mind and gave him a troubled look for a 
time. McCue had been a good man and a faithful ser- 
vant for quite a time, and the miners and bosses all 
liked him. Would they like this new man and would 
things run smoothly under his dominion? McCue he 
remembered had worked with his own hands to get a 
Hungarian out of the mines when the mines were 
drowned out, some years ago. He had been a faith- 
ful servant and how was he going to reward him for 
his faithfulness? By turning him out of his position 
and setting him adrift in the world? No, he need not 
do that. He would see that he had a position of some 
sort or other. Then was McCue really fit for the po- 
sition that he occupied? He had told him some years 
ago that he must make the mine pay better and he 
had given him a year of grace or two to come up to his 
ideal, and the result was little better. No, McCue was 
manifestly unfit for the position or he could make the 
profits as well as this man Gwynne, who had been 
speaking so enthusiastically. Then he remembered 
the words that McCue had spoken to him some years 
ago, about “running the mine honestly and justly.” 
Yes, those were his very words, but though the re- 
membrance gave him some painful reflections, he dis- 
missed them by saying to himself that a man must 
take care of his own interests. He couldn’t have all 
those profits wasted. No, McCue must go. He had 
settled the matter. 

“Well?” said Gwynne, who had been watching the 
operator narrowly and had now seen that he had 
reached a conclusion. 

“You shall have the position and may go into office 
as soon as I can make arrangements; I will let you 
know.” 

Gwynne, seeing that the interview was over, that 
he had gained his point and the position, arose to go 
and after a word of adieu left the house. 

Mrs. Hoyt came in just after the exit of Owen 
Gwynne. There was a look of inquiry on her face 


152 


BOSS TOM. 


that her husband could not well avoid. Mrs. Hoyt, 
like her husband, was a little beyond the middle age. 
Wealth had not brought any unseemly pride with it. 
She knew her position, it was true, and the classic 
dignity and pride of her husband was set off by a 
graceful dignity of her own, but her pride was not an 
unseemly one. She was a Christian woman, and had 
a proper conception of her life and position. She 
viewed things in a little different light from her hus- 
band. He was a person of some culture acquired 
throughout the more than forty years of his life, of 
gentlemanly instinct and, though a practical business 
man, had lately spent more time in leisure than for- 
merly. Like most wealthy men, wealth meant power 
to him and there was a secret pride also in his ability 
as a financier. Mrs. Grace Hoyt on the other hand 
viewed the good things of their position as talents, — 
as the goods of God and consigned to their hands as 
stewards and not as masters. It was due to her, so 
people said, that the nurses had been procured to nurse 
miners and their families during periods of sickness 
and that there was such a generous distribution of tur- 
keys on Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

“Yes/’ said her husband, in answer to her mute in- 
quiry, “I have at length decided to hire a new super- 
intendent for the colliery of Mayoton. McCue can’t 
stand in the way of progress any longer. I am sorry 
to discharge him and yet I can’t see that there’s any- 
thing else to do. I am going to give him another po- 
sition though, so that he will have something to do.” 

“Do you think that it is a wise thing to do?” 

“Yes, Mr. Gwynne thinks that he can make the mine 
pay double what it does at the present time and I 
have been lenient with McCue long enough.” 

“How will it affect the miners?” 

Mr. Hoyt was a little nettled. “Oh, I can’t always 
consult their interests. Other operators never think 
of their employes first, and I can’t either. I don’t run 


BOSS TOM. 


153 


the mines out of charity. Grace, you are too con- 
scientious, — but the men will be taken care of.” 

“Oh, Arthur, I’m afraid that your natural desire for 
increase in the profits will cause them to suffer. I 
don’t like that man Gwynne, at least his appearance, 
and I’m sure we have enough without working things 
to the last cent of profit. And didn’t you tell me that 
McCue told you that the mines could be made more 
profitable only at the expense of the men and justice 
to them? I’m afraid, Arthur, that you are making a 
bad move, and one that your conscience will not ap- 
prove of in the future.” 

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Hoyt, growing a little red 
under the reproachful tones of his wife. “The Mayo- 
ton mines are not paying so well as the Meadow 
mines ; the Lowland mines yield large returns and 
they laughed at me and McCue. I am just as good a 
financier as they are and I will show them. We must 
make the maximum of profits and McCue can’t do 
that or won’t do it. He has demonstrated that he is 
a failure and he must be succeeded by another and a 
better man. Grace, you ought to know me well 
enough to understand that I won’t see the men suf- 
fer.” 

“Well, I suppose that you know best, but I have my 
doubts as to the outcome of it all.” 

Hoyt, for the first time in his life, was a little net- 
tled and vexed at his wife; and yet he didn’t show it 
but seized his hat, bade Caesar to follow, and went out 
for a walk. 


154 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A SHORT CHAPTER OF SOME CONSEQUENCE. 

O NE and, — two and, — three — and four and, — ” 
was the monotonous chant that came from the 
parlor of the Penryn home one Saturday even- 
ing, and yet, monotonous as it was, it had a peculiar 
seductive charm for a figure bending over the table 
in the next room, busy diligently studying. The chant 
continued incessantly broken by pauses and a few 
words of correction, and then it would begin again in 
a low musical voice. The student paused for a mo- 
ment at his desk or work table, and elevated his head 
as if listening. Then he dallied with his pencil and 
drew vague figures upon the table-cloth. 

“George,” said his mother, who was seated near 
him stitching rags for a new carpet, “George, if you 
don’t watch, you will spoil that new table-cloth and 
we can’t afford to waste things like that.” 

The youth started, and then seemed to be drawn 
away from his abstraction to things of the present 
time. He ceased to draw the pencil across the table- 
cloth. 

“I was just thinking, mother, that I will be able to 
pass the Mine Foreman’s Examination if any one will. 
Tom told me the other day that he wouldn’t like to 
stand the same examination with me, as I was appar- 
ently quicker than he was in the theoretical work.” 

“I hope that you will pass, my son ; I know that you 
will,” said his mother, as she fondly gazed at him. 

“I have worked hard and so has Jimmy. I can 
handle powder and work a breast like an old miner, 
father says.” 


BOSS TOM. 


155 


“Can Jimmy fire powder ?” 

“Yes, Jimmy is working with his father, too, now. 
I don’t believe we can take the Foreman’s Examina- 
tion before we are twenty-one, though we know now 
more than most mine foremen.” 

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” 

“You see we will be examined first for Assistant 
Mine Foreman then, sometime after that, we will take 
the Foreman’s Examination.” 

“Are they hard?” 

“The first is easy but the second is difficult.” 

“Well, you had a good teacher in Mr. Penhall.” 

“Old Tom is the best miner in the region. He 
knows nothing about grammar but he is good in 
mathematics and, think of it, mother, he learned it all 
himself.” 

“I hope you will get up to be as high as Mr. Pen- 
hall some day, my son.” 

There was silence for a moment, during which the 
“one — and — two — and” could be distinctly heard from 
the other room. 

“Mother, how is the bank account growing? Have 
you enough to build a house yet?” 

Mrs. Penryn stopped her sewing and smiled, a gen- 
uine, sweet, motherly smile. 

“Nearly enough I think. Your father and I were 
talking about it last night.” 

“If I pass and get a position as Assistant Mine Fore- 
man, then we shall have a home of our own in almost 
no time. My bank account is growing larger every 
month and I will soon have more than Jimmy. Jimmy 
doesn’t save as much as he might, though he is care- 
ful.” 

Again came the monotonous chant from the front 
room. “One and, — two and, — three and, — four and, — ” 
Would that lesson never end, thought George to him- 
self. Alice Penhall was in the parlor giving his sis- 
ter, Nellie, a lesson in music. He was trying hard to 
study but he found his mind constantly drawn away 


156 


BOSS TOM. 


from tangents, cosines, and theorems, by the one and 
— two and — three and, murmured softly by a sweet 
voice. A vision of a white dress and a pleasant coun- 
tenance, o’erhung with a mass of auburn hair, low- 
lying in ripples on a broad fair brow, and the whole il- 
luminated by winsome blue eyes, arose before him. He 
thought he would take a walk after the lesson was 
finished to freshen himself up a little in the outer air. 
Of course, he could go now but, no, he would wait for 
Alice Penhall and perhaps she would be going the 
same way. It wouldn’t be nice to let her go home 
alone. He hoped that his sister, Nellie, would have 
sense to stay at home. There was air enough for three 
of them, but that didn’t suit George’s purpose. He 
had been cut out of having a chat with Alice the last 
time he had been at Tom’s place by Nellie, and he had 
very reluctantly gone home with Belle Phillips. Did 
Alice know that he felt any — in anyway more than 
a friend to her? He felt his countenance grow crim- 
son at the very thought. No, hardly that for he had 
only realized his own heart the last time he had been 
at Tom’s when he had received his last instruction from 
the kind-hearted boss. If she did know that he liked 
her she would naturally think that his going home 
with Belle was a strange procedure. Belle had spread 
that news far and near, or rather her silly mother had, 
and he was teased by Jimmy the next day at the works 
about it. What vexed him particularly was that her 
father, Philip Phillips, the gangway contractor, had 
looked upon him kindly and had told him to call 
around some evening, that he had a few books upon 
mining that might interest him. As if he did not know 
that it was not for the books that Phillips desired him 
to call, but for another purpose. And Jimmy, the 
mimic, had told him in a good imitation of the fat 
little Welshman’s tones, “ ’ou can call around some 
evening, George, and see some books that ’ou can 
have.” Yes, and Ned Thomas had told him with a grin 


BOSS TOM. 


157 


that a vacancy would be soon ready for him in the 
gangway in the contractor’s gang of workmen. 

“Needn’t be afraid of not ’aving a job, now, boy, for 
Philip will see that you are all right,” Ned had said. 

Alice was at length through with the lesson and 
the parlor door opened and both emerged into the 
sitting-room. 

“How is Nellie getting on with her music, Miss 
Alice?” asked Mrs. Penryn. 

“Nellie is going to make great progress and is going 
to be a musical wonder in time. Why, I have been 
teaching her only for a year or so and already she plays 
better than any in the town.” 

“Except yourself, Miss Alice,” said George. 

“She will beat me in time if she keeps on at the rate 
that she is going.” 

Alice put on her hat that Mrs. Penryn had pro- 
cured for her, seeing that she was going. George also 
arose to take the walk that he had planned, but to 
his chagrin, Nellie also desired to keep company with 
her friend. The air in the parlor had been too close 
for her and she thought that a walk in the open air 
would do her good. 

“And, Nellie,” called the mother, after their retreat- 
ing forms, “call at the store and bring back some sugar 
with you, — two pounds.” 

George was thankful for that last mandate from 
his mother for it insured the departure of Nellie at the 
store and he would have Alice all to himself. The 
conversation was mostly upon music, in which George 
mingled as much as his limited knowledge upon that 
subject would permit. At the end of the street, Nellie, 
true to her mother’s wishes, left for the store and 
George accompanied Alice the rest of the way to her 
home. He wanted to see her father, he alleged, about 
the examinations and he would walk up to the house. 
Did she think that her father was home? Yes, she 
thought he would be, in all probability. 

“Belle Phillips is quite a pleasant social girl,” she 


158 


BOSS TOM. 


said, after the preliminary talk upon her father and 
the examinations had been exhausted. 

“She is pleasant and social and pretty, too, but she 
has some drawbacks like her mother/’ answered 
George a little dryly. 

Alice laughed at the tone of voice that he used and 
was not ill pleased, for she thought that George was 
too good a man to throw himself away upon a girl 
like that. 

“All the people say, George, that we are going to 
have a match in you and Belle.” 

“The people are very much interested in my affairs. 
I suppose that some folks that I know wouldn’t care 
if I would marry Belle,” said George a little irritated. 

“Every one likes to see you happy with the girl of 
your choice,” responded Alice, a little mischievously, 
and with some of the humor of her father. Now this 
kind of talk was anything but pleasing to George. 
Alice, he thought, had no idea that he revered her 
more than any other or she wouldn’t talk that way. 
She couldn’t think very much of him anyway. These 
thoughts filled him with unpleasant reflections. 

“It is true that I should like to marry the girl of 
my choice, but the trouble is that she doesn’t know 
that she is such.” 

“You ought to tell her, but I believe that you are 
wrong there, for Belle most certainly thinks that she 
is, and I don’t think that she would be surprised if 
you should tell her.” 

George protested in vain that he thought nothing 
of Belle, but Alice, in the mischief of her heart, 
wouldn’t have it that way. She kept up the bantering 
talk all the way to her father’s home and succeeded in 
making George more and more irritable and morose. 
When the gate was reached, he thought that he didn’t 
need to see her father after all. He wanted to be away 
by himself to think. 

“Aren’t you coming in to see father?” she asked. 


BOSS TOM. 


159 


“No.” That “no” was short, morose and very sullen ; 
and then, as if he was ashamed of his spirit he said 
that he thought he would come again. He hurried 
off, filled with unpleasant reflections and doubts. He 
loved her, he knew it, but she, did she care? No, that 
was evident. A miserable feeling came over him that 
was hard to overcome. Alice entered her home. She 
wondered for a moment at the manner of George and 
then quite forgot him and Belle in the conversation 
and daily evening talk of her own family. She had a 
good home, a kind father and affectionate mother and 
loved them both with all her heart. Affection for an- 
other had never as yet entered her breast. 


160 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE NEW REGIME. 

M AYOTON was filled with evil rumor. Mayo- 
ton was sad and ill at ease. Mayoton was in- 
dignant. 

McCue, the superintendent of the people, for they 
called him their superintendent, because they liked 
him, because he was fair, because he had the interest 
of the miner as well as the operator at heart, McCue, 
who had endeared himself to the people by hundreds 
of acts, notably the rescue of Gusha and the turning 
of the flood, McCue, the humane, was no longer super- 
intendent of Mayoton. He had resigned, it was said, 
to enter into other business, but the general current 
opinion was that his resignation had been hinted, 
and McCue, forestalling the attempt to turn him down, 
tendered his formal withdrawal. The people were in- 
dignant for a time, but like all things, the passing 
months dulled their spirit. They remembered McCue 
kindly, and that was all. It was another case of “The 
king is dead; long live the king.” 

Owen Gwynne had been in office a few months and 
had ventured to make a few changes, but they were 
not radical. It was in the private office of the Mayo- 
ton Coal Company that Operator Hoyt met his new 
superintendent for conference. 

“You said, Mr. Gwynne, when you assumed charge 
of this colliery, that you would increase the net profits 
of the company, and it was with that understanding 
that I put you in charge, yet here it is the end of the 
second month, and the profits are not much more than 
they were under the hands of McCue.” 


BOSS TOM. 


161 


“Did you ever hear the story of the fellow that lifted 
the ox?” answered Gwynne with a smile, and, seeing 
that Hoyt was listening, he continued. “Well, he began 
when the ox was a calf and went on lifting it every day 
until it became full grown. If he had attempted it 
when full grown, he couldn’t have succeeded.” 

“I see,” said Hoyt, “you are putting in your plans 
gradually. But let us hear of your future plans.” The 
operator seated himself more comfortably and, having 
lighted a cigar, handed the well filled case to his super- 
intendent. Gwynne took the proffered case, extracted 
one carefully and lit it and resumed his remarks. 
“First you must reduce the wages.” 

Hoyt frowned and the unpleasant expression lin- 
gered for a time upon his countenance, and then, as 
rapidly passed away, though a thoughtful expression 
still remained. 

“In the first place,” continued Gwynne, “you pay 
more than the Lowland Company or other operators 
in the region and their miners are continually com- 
plaining. If we would have contentment among the 
miners, the men must be paid as in other mines. Give 
a miner an inch and he will take a mile. You don’t 
want to be too generous or greater demands will be 
made by them.” 

“Will it not cause the miners to suffer?” 

“Suffer? No. What does a dollar or so off matter to 
them? They spend it all anyway and they will not 
be the worse because they have a dollar or so less to 
squander. Then is it fair to pay higher wages than 
mines that are smaller than your own? The justice 
of the case to the other operators must be considered.” 
Gwynne had struck the right chord in the breast of 
Hoyt. 

“Very true.” 

“Precisely so,” affirmed Gwynne, “and especially 
when you can increase your own profits by so doing.” 

“What reduction would you make?” 

“Ten per cent.; that will bring the wages down to 


162 


BOSS TOM. 


what they pay. They intend to reduce the wages of 
their engineers so that they will receive the same as 
we pay ours.” 

“You talked it over with them?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, what next?” asked Hoyt, for he was getting 
interested in the schemes of this man, his servant. 

“The men must buy more out of the store.” 

“How can you make them do that?” 

“Discharge them if they do not,” said Gwynne, and, 
seeing that Hoyt was thinking, he continued, “It isn’t 
right that men who get their bread from you by you 
giving them work should not patronize you in return. 
The reason the store didn’t pay as much as it should 
before was because some of the people scarcely bought 
a thing in it but purchased the majority of their things 
in the city. That leakage must be stopped.” 

“Well, go on,” said Hoyt, pulling heavily on his 
cigar. 

“I will procure a list of the names, residences and 
whether the employes are married or single. I must 
also get a list of the foreign boarding-houses and how 
many boarders they have. Then I shall try to make 
them buy six dollars’ worth for every boarder that 
they have.” 

Hoyt smiled. “You are a good financier, Gwynne.” 

Owen Gwynne laughed, and then proceeded. “Our 
docking boss must be instructed to dock more cars 
than he does. He is too easy. Some men send out 
cars half full of slate and dirt and he doesn’t dock 
them but one-fourth, and at times not at all ; he must 
be discharged if he doesn’t do better. Then miners 
must be compelled to top their cars. I think we 
ought to pay every month instead of every two weeks, 
also.” 

“It is against the law,” said Hoyt. 

Gwynne laughed and answered, “The legislature 
never intended it to be enforced.” 

“Will the men not object and possibly strike?” 


BOSS TOM. 


163 


“No, they have no money, or at least the majority 
have not. If they strike they will starve ; beside they 
have no leaders and are not likely to have for a strike 
leader would not get any work in the whole region. 
Last strike I was superintendent of the Prosperity 
Mine and received the names of all the leaders, and 
they never received any work under me, that I can 
assure you. I also sent lists of the names to all the 
superintendents in the region and I doubt whether any 
of them ever secured work near here. Some didn’t 
need a place to work in the mines as they managed to 
get enough out of the strike to set them up in business. 
The miner is a fool to be persuaded by unscrupulous 
men to strike when it benefits no one but the strike 
agitator. Well, what do you think of my plans?” 

“You may go ahead, Gwynne; do what you think is 
best, only make the colliery pay well and be as easy as 
you can upon the men,” said Hoyt, in a slow manner 
as he arose to go. 

“Stop a moment, Mr. Hoyt ; I think that we can do 
without some bosses. There is a boss here that I do 
not like so well, and we had best have harmony. He 
is far too intimate with the men and that is not for the 
best interests of the company.” 

“Whom do you mean?” asked Hoyt. 

“Penhall, mine foreman of Number One.” 

“Best boss we have, Gwynne,” said Hoyt, emphati- 
cally, “you can’t discharge him; he is honest to the 
core.” 

“Yes, too honest. You don’t want a too honest 
boss.” 

“He can’t be discharged,” reiterated Hoyt soberly, 
“he is faithful to the company and the men like him. 
He saved the lives of two men in this mine not long 
ago.” 

“How was that?” 

“I think it was a fellow called Penryn who was driv- 
ing a gangway. He had drilled two holes, prepared to 
fire them, lighted the fuses and then shouted ‘fire’ 


164 


BOSS TOM. 


and started to run when a piece of top came down and 
stunned him just as Penhall was coming in. Penhall 
called to him and receiving no response, suspected 
something wrong and rushed in. It was dangerous 
work for the holes might have gone off at any time. 
Penhall seized him and carried him out, but not in 
time to escape injury for the blast went off and a few 
of the flying pieces struck them both ; Penryn was 
saved from certain death by Penhall’s action. No, no, 
can’t discharge Penhall, Gwynne.” 

“Oh, if that is the case I wouldn’t discharge him 
either. I admire brave men and in the mines is where 
you will find them. I’ll have to make Penhall my es- 
pecial friend.” 

“It would be better so.” 

“I’ll have to tell him though not to be too intimate 
with the men. You have a good boss in Pat Develry. 
He’ll curse and swear at the Hungarians but he makes 
them work.” 

“A man will work just as well without the use of 
profanity; Penhall never swears, I’m told, but is gen- 
erally singing some church hymn, and yet he gets as 
much work out of his men as any boss in the mines. 
I wish, Gwynne, that you would keep swearing out of 
the mines as much as possible. Dolan is a good fel- 
low. How do you like Finn, the coal and iron police- 
man and Reeber, the paymaster? The former served 
the company ten years ; the latter, twenty.” 

“Reeber is honest and Finn is well, — a good-na- 
tured fellow and as strong as a bull. Yes, they are 
good men. By the way, we must have a company 
butcher. The people buy their meat from the town 
butchers and we ought to have their trade. We lose 
two dollars a month from each family by not having 
one ; yes, and sometimes seven dollars and more. Let’s 
see,” said Gwynne, thinking a moment, during which 
there was a pause and silence in the room. “Yes, we 
have over a thousand families in and around the town, 
to say nothing of the boarding-houses. We lose about 


BOSS TOM. 


165 


eight thousand dollars a month of trade and, since the 
profit is now a little over one-third, we lose, in clear 
cash,, three thousand dollars a month. We can’t af- 
ford that, Mr. Hoyt.” 

“Get one,” said Hoyt, grimly smiling. 

“And,” continued Gwynne, “we need a company doc- 
tor. We lose something by not having one, — say 
about a hundred dollars a month, — ten per cent, for 
collection, you know.” 

“All right, get one,” laughed Hoyt. “You can hire 
an undertaker at the same time. What do you say? 
Don’t you think that we could make something by 
making them buy their caskets of us?” 

Gwynne laughed. “Well, we keep out fifty cents to 
a dollar from each man’s pay for preacher and priest. 
By the way, Mr. Hoyt, I witnessed an amusing sight 
in the pay office last week. We used to keep out of 
each Hungarian Lutheran’s pay fifty cents for their 
minister. Their minister, a little red-haired chap, 
with a trifle of new beard around his chin, was in the 
office seeing Reeber. ‘Mr. Reeber, you must not keep 
out fifty cents from each of my church people. I no 
like to be called “company preacher,” ’ he said. His 
members called him the company preacher.” 

Mr. Hoyt smiled and then grew grave again. “He’s 
a good and sincere man, Mr. Gwynne. When we had 
the mines drowned out some years ago and a Hun- 
garian was stopped in, he and his members gathered 
outside the slope mouth and stood there all night, in 
the rain, holding a service of prayer for the safety 
of the entombed miner.” 

“So,” said Gwynne, in some surprise. “There was 
some Christianity in that.” 

“Yes,” said Hoyt, “that was the time too, when 
Penhall saved the life of the second miner, that I men- 
tioned and of which I forgot to tell you. Penhall 
worked twenty-four hours without rest or food until 
he was released. Indeed one may say he saved the 
lives of many at that time by his prompt and energetic 


166 


BOSS TOM. 


action. Well, I must go. I hope you will have no 
trouble with your new schemes.” 

“Oh, we’ll have none,” answered Gwynne cheerily. 

Mr. Hoyt buttoned up his driving coat, pulled on his 
gloves and hastening out and getting into his carriage, 
drove rapidly away. 

Gwynne had a clear field for his plans. 


BOSS TOM. 


167 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

SOWING THE TEETH OF THE DRAGON. 

N OW, stand to, Jimmy, and heave together.” 

The scene was in Number One slope, in one 
of the gangways. George Penryn and Jimmy 
O’Donnel were timbering. The stout young fellows 
of twenty-one or two could no longer be called boys. 
A few years had made great changes in them. Both 
had, after much arduous study under Boss Tom’s in- 
struction and attendance at the night school, passed 
the Mine Foreman’s Examination, but there were no 
positions available to them at that time. They had 
had practical experience as miners, laboring with their 
respective fathers, and so they accepted positions as 
timbermen, knowing that the experience would bene- 
fit them. They were endeavoring to place a collar upon 
its legs- In gangway timbering the two upright sticks 
are called in mining parlance “legs” and the cross piece 
“a collar.” They were just now essaying to place the 
heavy cross piece in position and the task was no easy 
one as the collar was extra heavy. There was a heav- 
ing and straining of the stout young muscles, a quick- 
ness of breathing, and then a last final effort and the 
collar was in place. Both young men sat down for 
a moment to rest their flagging energies and to par- 
take of something from the ever handy dinner bucket. 
It was approaching the dinner hour and both were 
hungry. Boss Tom was always very charitable to his 
men. He knew that they were not pieces of inani- 
mate machinery that could continue at work con- 
stantly without a single breathing spell. He was no 
Egyptian taskmaster. “So long as ’ee do the work 


168 


BOSS TOM. 


speedily and carefully, I doant care, lads, ef ’ee do rest 
a bit,” he had often told his company men. 

“Are you going to the party that Mrs. Phillips is 
giving for her daughter, George?” asked Jimmy be- 
tween his bites of pie. 

“I have an invitation. Whether I shall go I do not 
know as yet,” answered his companion soberly. 

“If you don’t go it will be a disappointment to Mrs. 
Phillips and to Bell, too, shure,” said Jimmy. Jimmy, 
though he had advanced pretty fairly at the night 
school, yet used a few of his old boyish terms. “You 
have a fine chance there, George. Belle would like to 
go with ye and would jump at the chance. I heard a 
fellow say some time ago that this party was for noth- 
ing else but to catch George Penryn for Belle.” 

George was silent for a moment and Jimmy began 
his old bantering tone. 

“She’s mighty good looking and ye would be lucky, 
for she and you w r ould make a mighty team, now, 
shure.” 

“Yes, she’s pretty,” said George, in a sober tone, 
“but I pity the lad that gets her. She’d keep him poor 
all his life with her spendthrift ways.” 

“She would that,” answered Jimmy soberly. 

“A fashion plate, nothing more,” reiterated George, 
in some disgust; “but, Jimmy, she would be just the 
girl for you. — Fine cook, you know,” and George 
smiled. 

“Murder! No!” exclaimed Jimmy, holding up his 
hands in mock horror. “Afflict me in any other way! 
Would ye wish me to die before my time?” Both 
laughed. 

“Now, there’s Mary, shure; Belle couldn’t hold a 
candle to her. She’s a scholar, a good cook, a mighty 
fine girl and not one like her.” 

“I can’t agree with you, Jimmy.” 

“That’s for ye to say and not for me to argue,” re- 
sponded Jimmy; “every one to his fancy and it’s lucky 
that all don’t fancy the same, eh George? for in that 


BOSS TOM. 


169 


case there would be the old Nick to pay. It would 
so. But I'm thinking that in both cases, Belle isn’t 
worthy to carry their shoes. Old Toni’s daughter is 
a mighty fine girl and Mary is — a — a — as good as an 
angel. She is that.” 

“Right you are there. It’s a good, sensible girl, a 
religious, careful, and a lady-like one, and one that 
isn’t vain and foolish, that you and I are looking for. 
But did you get an invitation to the party and are you 
going?” 

“Yes, and seeing as they have no designs upon me 
and with the protection of Mary, I think that I’ll 
risk it.” 

“Well, I guess it’s time to put in another leg,” said 
George, arising; “I think we can do it before the din- 
ner hour.” Jimmy arose and both started into work 
with a vigor that proved their short rest had not lost 
the company any time or money. After the upright 
piece of timber was in place both took their dinner 
buckets and prepared to leave the place of work for the 
foot of the slope, where there was a better location 
and more company in which to pass away the noon- 
tide hour. 

“Look at that rat, George. He has come out to get 
some dinner, too.” 

“Here, old fellow,” said George to the bright-eyed 
little creature that paused some distance away from 
them as if afraid of farther approach ; “here’s some- 
thing to prove that men are not so bad to your kind, 
after all,” and he flung a small piece of bread to the 
animal. Instantly seizing it, the rat scurried away 
with it to a place of security. 

“Rats are not so bad in a mine, except when a man’s 
in the position that Mike Gusha was some years ago. 
Remember that time, Jimmy?” 

“I do that ; and ever since I don’t like rats any more 
than I do rattlesnakes. Ugh !” said Jimmy, as he 
thought of the condition that Gusha was in when they 
found him. Both Jimmy and George had been in the 


170 


BOSS TOM. 


rescuing party of that time. “1 wouldn’t feed them if 
they were starving of hunger.” 

“You do the rats wrong, Jimmy, when you say that. 
Those rats do nothing more than some men do when 
in similar positions.” 

“Ah, come off now. What are ye giving us?” 

“Fact,” said George. “Why, Jimmy, I remember 
that Tom told me that when he came out from Eng- 
land they picked up a small boat with two men in it, 
that had been adrift on the mid-ocean for nineteen 
days without anything to eat and they had killed one 
of their number, a lad, so Tom said, to satisfy their 
hunger. They said that the boy was going crazy any- 
way by drinking sea water, and that he had no friends, 
while they had their families. It was an awful thing, 
but they were all half insane with their terrible ex- 
perience. Don’t blame the rats, for they are the min- 
ers’ friends.” 

“How’s that?” 

“A rat is the friend of the miner and the sailor. A 
rat will never stay in a ship that is unseaworthy and 
he will never stay in a mining place that is unsafe ; so 
that when he scurries off, it is a warning to the men.” 

At the bottom of the slope there was quite a crowd 
of men gathered to eat their dinners and enjoy each 
other’s company. 

“ ’Ere, lads, ’ave ’ee got any hoil?” asked Boss Tom, 
as George and Jimmy approached. “My lamp’s al- 
most out and you lads being company men, doant pay 
for the hoil any more than I do, so ’ee can afford to 
lend, — that es, ef ’ee got a plenty.” 

“Why, Tom, why didn’t you say that you needed 
some oil? I’d let you have some of mine,” said Ned 
Thomas. 

“No, no, Ned; thee’rt a generous lad and would give 
away the last cent that ’ee ’ad to ’elp one worse off 
than thaself. If thee art a lemb of Satan in the joking 
line, ’ee ’ave a generous heart. No, I’m much obliged, 
Ned, but you’re a miner and got to pay for the hoil. 


BOSS TOM. 


171 


Company men, we company men, are privileged per- 
sons,” said Boss Tom, with a trace of humor. “That’s 
why I doant ask miners. But, Ned, ’ast ’ee got a bit 
of ’bacca? I’ll ask ’ee for that ’cause that’s what we 
all pay for.” 

Ned handed Tom a small paper bag and told him to 
help himself, which he did in liberal quantities. 

There were footsteps heard coming down the man- 
way and the person, whoever he was, was close to the 
bottom of the descent when his approaching steps 
were heard, It was some one unaccustomed to the way 
— at least that could be told by the noise. All turned 
their heads to the bottom of the manway, and they 
were not kept long in suspense. 

“ ’Tis Lew Wilt, the store clerk,” said Ned; “I won- 
der what he wants down here. Hallo, Wilt!” contin- 
ued Ned, “are you come down to take orders?” 

“No,” responded Wilt with a dogged air, “I’m come 
down to obey orders.” 

“Now, Wilt, what do ’ee want?” asked Boss Tom. 

“I must get the names of all the men, whether they 
are married or single, and where they live or board,” 
answered Wilt. “Here, you,” addressing a Hungar- 
ian near by, “what’s your name?” 

“Number Thirty,” answered the Hungarian. 

“ John Yasso,” added Boss Tom. 

“Where you live?” continued Wilt. 

“Behind stable.” 

“Where?” 

“Behind the mule stables,” added Tom. 

Lew Wilt wrote down the answers in his book and 
then continued his inquisition. “Are you married?” 

The Hungarian looked dumbfounded for a moment, 
not understanding the question. He finally responded, 
“No standey.” 

“Got frau?” 

“What for you want to know?” asked the Hungarian 
mistrustfully. 


172 


BOSS TOM. 


“John,” said Jimmy, “no got frau, big boss get one 
for you. Big boss say every one must have frau. 
What kind you want — Irish, English, Hungarian?” 

The Hungarian shook his head vigorously at the 
mentioning of Irish and English. 

“Irish no douberie (good). English no douberie. 
Hungarian douberie — him carry water, cut wood, dig 
garden.” 

All laughed and the Hungarian finished with a shake 
of the head. “No got frau. No want frau now.” 

“What’s that all for?” asked several men in unison. 

“Gwynne wants it,” said Wilt. 

“Another dirty scheme,” growled some of the men, 
for they had not taken kindly to some of his former 
plans. 

“Does Gwynne want to know how many children a 
man has, Wilt?” asked a voice back in the crowd. 

“What does he want of the names, Wilt?” asked old 
Boss Tom. 

“I don’t know. That’s his business and I have only 
to obey orders.” Wilt took the names of the men 
present and prepared to go into the gangways. 

“ ’Ere, Wilt, I’ll go with ’ee. You doant knaw where 
the men all are,” and Tom, followed by Wilt, made 
the rounds of all the gangways and breasts. There 
was great curiosity on the part of the men and even a 
dim indistinct foreboding of something that was not to 
their welfare, but they received no information from 
Lew Wilt, the clerk. 


BOSS TOM. 


173 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE SAME OLD STORY. 

I T WAS the last day of June, and, according to the 
calendar, summer had already started forth upon her 
mission, bringing sultry heat and thunder gusts. 
But this was not the fact in the little mountain village 
of Mayoton. Spring with its balmy breezes and sweet 
smelling fragrance was loath to leave the haunts that 
it had blessed for such a long season. It was evening. 
The sun had long since sunk to rest behind the west- 
ern hills, illuminating sky and earth with a glory and 
wealth of variegated hues unknown to the artist’s 
brush. There was still a purple radiance on the west- 
ern horizon, like the first faint flush of a maiden’s 
cheek, and from it emerged faint streamers of opaline 
and light saffron that seemed vainly endeavoring to 
drink in the pale azure of the firmament. Toward the 
east, the heavens were of a darker hue and yet a faint 
line of aluminum between the scrub pines of the hills 
indicated that a gentler effulgence would soon dom- 
inate and proclaim the night. 

Old Boss Tom reclined in an easy chair upon his 
front portico. The day had been an arduous one for 
him and he was now resting and seemed lost in the 
pleasing meditation of nature around about him. A 
blushing crimson rambler, that lovingly clung to a 
trellis work at one end of the veranda, breathed its af- 
fection in fragrance upon the air. There was a tran- 
quil peacefulness upon the rugged countenance of the 
old boss, only seen upon the features of those whose 
career has been a course of rectitude. There was a 
stillness upon the evening air, only broken by the faint 
cry of the whip-poor-will, evidently the chorister pro- 


174 


BOSS TOM. 


claiming to his companions that the hour for the 
nightly practice was at hand. Old Tom was enam- 
oured with the beauty and grandeur of nature and 
something else as his soliloquy evidenced. 

“ ’Ow any one can be a disbeliever in God and his 
goodness, I doant knaw. ’Ow any one can be a bad, 
wicked man and live in forgetfulness of God, His bless- 
ings and His claims for service, I doant knaw. God 
is good, and His blessings are good and many,” mur- 
mured the boss to himself, and then paused for a mo- 
ment and continued in a low voice. “ ‘And God saw 
everything that ’e ’ad made and behold it was very 
good.’ Yes, the trees and the flowers and the air and 
yon little warbler a calling to his mates, are all beauti- 
ful and good and ’e made man to have dominion over 
the works of ’is ’ands, and yet ’ow thoughtless man is 
and ’ow thankless, too, not to consider ’is ’eritage. 
‘Lord, what es man that thou art mindful of ’im and 
the Son of Man that thou visitest ’im? And yet, Thou 
’ast made ’im a little lower than the hangels and ’ast 
crowned ’im with glory and honor. Thou madest ’im 
to ’ave dominion over the works of Thy hands ; Thou 
’ast put all things under his feet.’ ” The boss paused 
for a moment and then continued. “ ‘The lines ’ave 
fallen unto us in goodly places and a goodly ’eritage 
is ours.’ And yet men fight and drink, and like Esau, 
sell their birthright for a mess of pottage, while all the 
rest of creation praises Him. There — ” and Tom 
paused and listened attentively to a far-away call in the 
distance. “There’s another of they birds a tuning. 
‘Whip-poor-will’ they seem to say but who can 
tell but what they are singing ‘praise God.’ 
Yes, all nature, and they birds, and all, praise 
the Creator.” 

The old boss paused, for he had caught a gleam of 
pale moonlight that seemed like fretted silver through 
the trees of the hill tops — moonlight, crossed, re- 
crossed and penciled by intertwining, laced branches 
and pine needles. Again came the soliloquy: 


BOSS TOM. 


175 


“ 'Soon as the evening shades prevail, 

The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 

And nightly to the listening earth 
Repeats the story of 'er birth, 

Whilst all the stars th?t round 'er burn 
And all the planets in their turn 
Repeat the story as they roll, 

And spread the news from pole to pole ; 

Forever singing as they shine 
The 'and that made us is divine.' " 

But there were others abroad upon that beautiful 
evening, and Tom was made aware of it by the click- 
ing of the garden gate, and a step upon the board 
walk. He turned his attention away from the contem- 
plation of the heavens and the dulcet symphonies of 
feathered songsters, to welcome the newcomer. 

“ 'Ow are 'ee, George; come up and 'ave a chair. 
The evening es too fine to spend indoors, and so I like 
to sit outside,” and the boss shook hands with George 
Penryn in a cordial manner and drew up a handy porch 
chair for his use. George had been in a tumult all the 
evening, — that is, a mental tumult. It was an evening 
not only for nature meditation, but for lovers and lov- 
ers’ themes, and there had been a wild, ungovernable 
longing in his breast to see the vision of his soul, — the 
azure-eyed, aureous-tressed reality of his imagination ; 
so he had wandered in the neighborhood of Tom's 
home, expecting, hoping, to catch a glimpse of her and 
possibly a short period of conversation. He scarcely 
knew what to say to Tom as the reason for his visit, 
except that he was taking a walk, and he trivially made 
mention of the beauty of the evening and then relapsed 
into silence, hoping that Tom would say something of 
Alice, or that that worthy would herself appear. Tom 
gave him no trouble to express himself. So engrossed 
was he in his former thoughts that he paid no atten- 
tion to George's listless manner, but continued the 
conversation thus started, on the line of his former 
reverie. 


176 


BOSS TOM. 


“Yes, ’tez a beautiful evening and makes me think 
of the days we used to ’ave in old Cornwall, when a 
boy. Only we doant ’ave the sea ’ere and the gleam of 
the water of the Mount’s Bay.” 

Tom’s birthplace in England, and the place where 
he had spent the greater part of his youthful days, had 
been in Cornwall, near the town of Penzance and he 
now launched into reminiscences of those times, which 
would have been very interesting to George at any 
other period than the present, when his mind was so 
wholly occupied with other themes. There was a lat-. 
ent suspicion in the breast of the young man, which 
had been growing for quite a time, and which this 
present occasion seemed to fan into a flame of torture. 
Why did not Alice appear? he thought. Was she 
away? He did not like to put such a direct question to 
Tom. Was Tom aware of what he thought of her and 
of the state of his feelings toward her and was he pur- 
posely keeping her out of the way so that he should 
not see her? Had Tom fathomed his mind and the 
passion that was consuming him and thought that it 
would not do? Was he purposely keeping her out of 
the way to nip his expectations in the bud, or in min- 
ing parlance “to scrag his efforts?” Tom thought a 
great deal of him but he certainly would like to have 
his daughter marry some one above an ordinary tim- 
berman. He was thus in an indirect manner, and a 
kindly one, trying to hinder him in his aspirations. 
He remembered that once upon a former occasion he 
had called and found Alice not at home, and then at 
another time they had told him that she was not well. 
These thoughts and mental queries flashed through 
the youth’s mind as he listened to Tom, relating the 
things of former times. Ah, it was perfectly plain to 
him now, he thought, and he felt more miserable and 
irascible than he had ever felt in all his life. 

Tom, in blissful unconsciousness of his hearer’s in- 
attentive manner, still rattled on in the conversation, 
getting a brief “yes, sir,” and “no, sir,” from George 


BOSS TOM. 


177 


and thinking in his heart that he was entertaining him. 
In fact, the old boss was entertaining himself more 
than his companion, and he was not cognizant of the 
fact. 

“Now, talking about they whip-poor-wills, they are 
nice and tunesome but nothing to some of the birds of 
old Cornwall. I tell ’ee, George, we ’aven’t got a bird 
out ’ere, not even the robin, or that badly misnamed 
warbler, the cat-bird, that can compare with the song- 
sters of the old Dart. Why, I remember ’ow I used to 
’ear the wood-lark in the squire’s woods early in the 
morning, and there’s nothing like ’is song for music. 
They’ll tell ’ee, too, that the sky-lark is the sweetest of 
singing birds, but doant believe that. The sky-lark is 

fine, but the wood-lark es sweeter. Now ,” and 

Tom went off on a long dissertation on singing birds. 

George was in an agony of perplexed thoughts. In 
the meantime, Mrs. Penhall, having finished her work 
in the kitchen, brought her sewing out upon the por- 
tico and joined the group. She greeted George in a 
friendly manner and asked after the welfare of the 
people at home. Nellie, was she well and how was she 
getting on in her music? Oh, and yes, how was he 
getting on in his studies? These were the queries she 
put in her kindly greeting. 

Yes, Nellie was well and he was getting on fairly 
well, he had answered in reply to these questions. 
There was bitterness in his heart as he spoke, and then 
all apparently listened to Tom’s speech about some- 
thing he had accomplished, or something about old 
Cornwall when he was a boy there. George had a dim 
recollection afterward that it had reference to some 
church music or singing, he knew not what and didn’t 
care, and as Tom still kept on about Cornwall, George 
had the uncharitableness to wish in the impatience of 
his irritated soul that Cornwall was at the bottom of 
the sea. “The delectable Duchy, bah!” he thought- 

“Yes,” he reflected, giving the full rein to his mor- 
bid suspicions, “now Mrs. Penhall has told Alice to 


178 


BOSS TOM. 


seclude herself and she herself has come out to help 
Tom wear and tire me out, so that I will leave and — 
but I’ll not trouble them any further. I see the drift of 
the thing.” 

“Well, I must go,” he said abruptly and arose ac- 
cordingly. 

“What, going so soon,” exclaimed Tom. “The even- 
ing is yet young, and I must say that ’ee are splendid 
company, George, lad; I doant knaw when I ’ave en- 
joyed myself so well in conversation weth any one.” 

George pulled his cap down over his eyes with a 
jerk and bid a hasty adieu and departed. 

“I doant knaw what ’as come over the lad to go off 
so sudden like. He can’t be feeling well; must be 
taken sick or summat suddenly,” said Tom, regretfully. 

“I suppose he is,” said Mrs. Penhall sharply, for she 
liked not George’s sudden and unceremonious de- 
parture. 

George had not proceeded far when he perceived a 
gleam of white lawn approaching Tom’s gate and 

“Who is that with Alice?” he murmured to himself, 
while there was a strangling sense of tightness in his 
throat and a shooting pain in his chest. He turned a 
little, ostensibly to examine a flower-bed in a garden 
nearby, but really to cast a sly glance backward at 
the gate of Tom’s house. The parties were now near 
the gate and were chatting merrily. A gay, ringing 
laugh floated out on the air in his rear, and the peal 
jarred upon him and seemed to turn his heart into a 
lump of ice. 

Ah, it was Alice and young Gwynne, the son of 
Superintendent Gwynne. Young Gwynne was a law 
student — almost a graduate. Young Gwynne had 
money and was also the superintendent’s son. Alice 
was not at home but they had wanted to get him out 
of the road anyway, for they knew that young 
Gwynne and Alice must soon be home. Ah, he 
knew. They couldn’t deceive him. Now notice 
the smile of pleasure upon Mrs. Penhall’s face as she 


BOSS TOM. 


179 


shook hands with the superintendent’s son. Notice 
that obsequious, fawning grin on the countenance of 
Boss Tom, as he shakes hands with Gwynne in a 
friendly manner. They are anxious for a well-to-do 
son-in-law. Notice that welcoming look of Alice as 
she lets those sunbeam eyes smile into his. Ah — and 
he fairly crunched the top of the paling in his strong 
grasp. She had never looked that way at him. With 
a muttered oath, the first used in his life, he turned 
away with a bitter hatred in his heart for young 
Gwynne, Mrs. Penhall, and Tom, (yes, Tom, good old 
Boss Tom, his friend). He dragged his cap farther 
over his eyes and strode away into the gloom of the 
trees that darkly dappled the road. 

Good, hearty, simple-hearted Boss Tom, who in the 
fullness of his kindly nature, had a smile and a cheery 
word for every one — yes, even the very mules of the 
mines! How George, in his jealous rage, had mis- 
judged him ! 

And Alice, did he hate her? He did not know. He 
could not tell. He sat down when out of view on a log 
by the roadside and put his hot face in his hands, 
while the pale moonlight, through a rift in the trees, 
flooded his tangled black hair. Hate Alice! No, he 
could not hate her, no matter what she would do or 
with whom she would go. She might go with the devil 
and he could not hate her. True, he would just as 
soon see his Satanic Majesty with her as that smooth 
tongued, polished sycophant, young Gwynne. How 
he hated him, — bitterly, piratically. That isn’t Chris- 
tianlike, something whispered within him. He didn’t 
care, he thought, whether it was Christianlike or not. 
He couldn’t help it. And then a vision of the last 
scene at the gate — Alice smiling into the face of 
Gwynne — arose before him and his brows contracted 
as if in pain. 

“Oh, Alice, Alice, Alice,” he muttered, and he 
gripped his big hands until the nails fairly bit the 
flesh. He never knew how he had loved those eyes, 


180 


BOSS TOM. 


that rippling hair, ay, the whole personality, before; 
and now the thought of losing her, who had twined 
her life with his, throughout his boyhood days, was too 
much. He had never thought of her in any other light 
than as an associate of his own. 

Then, saner thoughts came to him as he meditated. 
Was not Tom and his wife right in trying to better the 
condition of their daughter? What chance had he with 
Gwynne? Gwynne had a higher education and had a 
higher position in life than himself. Would Tom ever 
consent to his daughter marrying a common miner’s 
son, a man of limited education and means, an ordin- 
ary timberman in the mines? The thought of it made 
him sick with disgust at the mines and his dirty min- 
ing life. Yes, but was not Tom in his youthful days 
an ordinary miner? But he was not a common miner 
now. But he himself need not be a common miner 
long. Had he not passed the Mine Foreman’s Ex- 
amination? Yes, but no position was open for him, 
and probably never would be. He had waited, and 
waited, and waited, and nothing came of it. 

He would give up the coal mines and go to the Klon- 
dike, to California, Australia, anywhere to make a 
fortune. No, that would not do, for then that smooth- 
tongued Gwynne would have no opposition, and a mad 
rage burned within him and there was a fiery gleam 
in his eyes. He leaned his head farther down upon his 
hands as the impotency of his rage and anger revealed 
itself to him, and continued in this position as if lost 
in sorrowful, yet fierce meditation. 

A lone whip-poor-will fluttered to a branch above 
his head and looked down in a startled, half-hesitating 
manner and broke the stillness of the place with a dis- 
mal “whip-poor-will,” but he stirred not, and the bird 
flew away with whirring wings and left him to his 
solitude. 

A melody from a piano floated out upon the still 
evening air, and then a mellow, bass voice sang. He 
knew that voice and that song too. It was Gwynne’s 


BOSS TOM. 


181 


voice and the song was Ben Bolt. What right had he 
to sing that song, and above all, what right had he to 
sing that song to her? 

“Gwynne, Gwynne,” — the words escaped from his 
lips in a harsh, half-audible guttural, and he again 
clenched his horny hands and mentally consigned the 
owner of that name to all the condign obloquy and op- 
probrium imaginable. Alice was too good for that pol- 
ished son of the schools. Yes, for that matter, she was 
too good for himself to aspire after. But the asinine 
assumption of that — that — that — , what should he call 
him, was insufferable and not to be tolerated. He 
hated him and his dark eyes gleamed again with all 
the savage ferocity of the Celt. He — 

“Why, George, why were ye not at the party at 
Belle Phillips’ place? Belle was asking for ye, and 
looked mopish all the evening because you weren’t 
there. What’s wrong? Why weren’t ye at the party ?” 

It was Jimmy O’Donnel that had spoken. Jimmy 
and Mary were on their way home from the party. 
Evidently Jimmy had obtained the protection of Mary, 
as he had said. They had come upon George before 
he was aware of their presence. Jimmy’s question and 
sudden appearance was like the probing of a wound 
with a red hot iron. 

‘The party be damned !” said George, as he strode 
away through the woods. 

“Now, what the div Did ye ever hear a thing 

like that? What the world has come over the boy? 
I never heard him say a thing like that in all me life. 
He must be sick or out of his head. I’ll ask him in the 
morning what ailed him, I will so,” and Jimmy and 
Mary walked on, amazed, mystified at the unexplain- 
able words and actions of George Penryn. 

Young Gwynne, after a short stay at Tom Penhall’s, 
took his departure. 

“What kind of a fellow is he, Allie?” asked old Tom, 
and then immediately followed his question with an- 
other, “What es ’e doing in this section?” 


182 


'BOSS TOM. 


“He is on a vacation, so he said, and he does seem 
like a gentleman. I met him at the preacher’s house, 
and the minister’s wife introduced him to me, and 
when I came home, he said that he would walk part 
way with me, though I didn’t think then he would 
walk all the way home.” 

Mrs. Penhall seemed very much pleased, and said 
that she thought that he would be a good match for 
“our Allie,” and then he was a lawyer and the superin- 
tendent’s son. Alice flushed an angry red. 

“Why, mother, every young man that sees a young 
lady home doesn’t want to marry her !” 

Old Tom put his arm around her and as he smoothed 
down her hair said, tenderly: “No, nor ’ee shouldn’t 
have her if he wanted to. The best man in the world 
shan’t ’ave *er.” 

“The best man in the world has me already,” said 
Alice, laughing, “and he is my 'dear old Tom,’ as he 
calls himself,” and the girl kissed her father affection- 
ately. 

“There, there, run away to bed for we must be all 
up hearly on the morrow.” 


BOSS TOM. 


183 


CHAPTER XX. 

TWO CHANGES OF FORTUNE. 

M R. OWEN Gwynne was in the post-office. It 
was the superintendent’s custom to investigate 
all the branches of the colliery work. Indeed 
he was such a methodical business man that every 
department of his work was thoroughly examined 
once or twice a month, to see how affairs were mov- 
ing. Mr. Hoyt had made no mistake when he be- 
stowed upon Owen Gwynne the superintendency, so 
far as that latter worthy’s business capacity was con- 
cerned. He was a business machine and every de- 
partment must pay to the utmost. No mine over 
which he had had the administration had ever proved 
a failure financially. The store, the slopes, the offices 
and even the post-office received his attention. 
Gwynne had seen that quite a sum of money was lost 
to the company by the post-office being in other hands. 
Through some means or other he had obviated the 
evil, as he called it, and managed to get it also under 
his authority. A clerk of the store was paid a little 
extra to attend to the daily mail and so a surplus went 
into the hands of the company. It was the post-office 
that was now attracting Mr. Gwynne’s notice. With 
the eye of a practised accountant, he ran over the 
books, correcting an error here and there, and soundly 
rating the officiating clerk at the same time. 

“You must be more careful, Wilt, about these little 
matters ; they are little matters, but they all count up 
in the long run and amount to a considerable sum. 
Now, there, I’ll wager that you didn’t place or mark 
excess postage on that letter.” 


184 


BOSS TOM. 


The letter to which he had referred was a bulky 
envelope in Tom Penhall’s box, and which had caught 
his eye. The letter was withdrawn from its place and 
examined and weighed. There were four cents over- 
weight charges to be paid before its delivery. Gwynne 
turned with a slight frown to the clerk. “This is a 
slipshod way of doing business. You put it in Mr- 
Penhall’s box without marking the excess or weighing 
it. This can’t go on long, Wilt.” 

“The mail just arrived a few moments ago and I 
suppose that I put it there in a hurry for there were 
many in the store and some were clamoring for their 
mail,” said Wilt, trying to palliate his offense. 

“Well, see that it doesn’t occur again and don’t ne- 
glect the postage when it is delivered. I’ll just mark 
on it four cents due, as a reminder. We can’t 
afford to let these little things slip.” 

Gwynne marked down the excess postage and, just 
at that moment, a customer coming in, Wilt hastened 
away to wait upon her, glad to get rid of any further 
lectures from the superintendent. 

The eye of the man of business was caught by the 
signature in the upper corner, and he scrutinized it 
closely. “Trual and Trembath, Barristers, Dod- 
min, Cornwall, England,” he read. “Now I won- 
der what Tom has to do with a law firm in 
England,” he murmured to himself as he me- 
chanically handled the letter testing the weight. 
It must be of some moment to Tom. “Trual 
and Trembath, — Trual and Trembath,” — where had he 
heard that name before? Oh, yes, now he remem- 
bered. It was when he was much younger, when his 
father was still alive. His father had received a little 
money from Wales, which inheritance through care 
and good judgment had formed the basis of his own 
little fortune. Yes, he remembered that Trual and 
Trembath had written to his father about the matter 
and his father had appointed them the agents. They 
were a firm that did a great deal of legal business in 


BOSS TOM. 


185 


Cornwall and had branch offices in Wales. Could 
Tom have any business of a like nature with them as 
did his father? He would like to know and yet it was 
an affair in which he had no interest. The temptation 
was strong to ascertain what the affair was about and 
yet it was a legal offense to open a letter. Legality, — 
bah — . It was but an empty term. Were they not 
now paying monthly, contrary to law, that said once 
every two weeks? Wilt was busy attending to the 
wants of a few customers. He would satisfy his curios- 
ity ; it might be of some use to him or to the company. 
With a lead pencil he deftly and quickly broke the 
sealing, and quickly scanned the contents. Ah ! it was 
as he had expected. Whew ! twelve thousand pounds 
coming to Tom from the old country by the death of 
a wealthy uncle. That was nearly sixty thousand 
dollars. A comfortable, snug sum. As deftly and ex^ 
peditiously as he had opened the envelope, he secured 
the sealing of it and replaced it in Tom’s box. His 
action was none too soon, for Wilt was through with 
his customers and was returning. Hurriedly caution- 
ing him about being more careful about the details of 
profit increasing, he departed to the private office of 
the company. 

‘‘What an old skinflint,” thought Wilt, as he en- 
tered the postal department alone, and then making 
sure that he had gone he uttered his remarks aloud, in 
a half audible tone. “He would bite a nail in two to 
make weight and skin a louse for the profit of his hide. 
I will just take that letter of Tom’s and weigh it 
again and see if it is as much overweight as he said.” 

The letter was taken the third time from its place 
in the box and weighed. Yes, it was as Gwynne had 
said. It was four cents overweight and then, as he ex- 
amined it, he started, for a little mucilage adhered to 
his fingers. 

“That’s strange,” he said, and then he examined the 
post-mark. “England, that’s strange, that a letter 
from away over there shouldn’t be dry before it comes 


186 


BOSS TOM. 


to this office. It’s not dry yet.” A sudden suspicion 
entered his breast, and he examined the desk. There 
was a drop of mucilage on the desk and the mucilage- 
bottle was not in its accustomed place. 

That letter was opened, and not so very long ago, 
as the nature of the sealing proved. Who could have 
done it? No one but Gwynne or himself, and he had not 
done it, he knew. There was no money in it or it 
would have been registered. Yes, it was Gwynne, and 
that was a criminal offense but he would not dare say 
anything for he had no proof, and he would probably 
be discharged if he breathed the affair. After all, it 
was only a little curiosity on the part of Gwynne and 
nothing would come of it. It was nothing to him 
anyway. 

A customer entered and Wilt hastened off to wait 
upon her. She was an Italian woman from the quar^ 
ters over behind the mule stables, and she wanted sar- 
dines and some other kind of fish. She had scarcely 
been waited on (which occupied quite a time as she 
seemed to haggle over the price) when Boss Tom 
came in for his mail. 

“ ’Ave ’ee got any mail for me, Wilt, lad?” asked 
Tom, and then his eye caught sight of the bulky letter 
in his box. “Ah, there’s summat there for me. Les ’ave 
it, Wilt.” 

Wilt nervously took out the letter. He was afraid 
that the sealing was still moist and that, if Tom should 
notice it, suspicion would naturally fall upon him. To 
his great satisfaction the sealing had become dry in 
the interval of time and he handed it over to Tom with 
a sigh of relief. “There is still four cents due on it, 
Tom, as it’s overweight.” 

“It must be something very important,” said Tom, 
as he fished up the required amount from his vest 
pocket. 

When outside of the store he examined the post- 
mark carefully. 

“A letter from England, ah!” said Tom as he began 


BOSS TOM. 


187 


to break the seal and peruse the contents. He had 
gotten over the first line when he paused and a suspic- 
ious moisture gathered in his eyes, which he wiped 
with his coat sleeve. “Poor uncle Tom is dead and 
gone, but he was a good man if he did have a quarrel 
with father,” and Tom continued reading and then, 
after a time, paused again with an expression of 
wonder. “I must read that again, for I may ’ave made 
a mistake,” he murmured, and then he again scanned 
the letter with renewed interest. “Twelve thousand 
pounds ! Twelve thousand pounds ! Why, that es a 
fortune! What a treat that will be for Allie and the 
Missis,” and with no thought for himself, but for 
others, and the benefit it would confer upon them, 
Tom folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. 

When he reached home he mentioned nothing to 
Mrs. Penhall or to Alice, but thought that he would 
keep the information to himself. There was some pro- 
cess of law to be gone through yet before he should 
gain possession. He would write and tell Trual and 
Trembath to take charge of the matter for him. 

In the meantime, Mr. Owen Gwynne had retired 
to his private office. It was nearly time for closing, 
but he desired to see Mr. Reeber, the paymaster, and 
as that person was not on hand, he was forced to await 
him. A new timekeeper was needed as the former 
incumbent of that office had resigned. Gwynne had 
discharged the assistant paymaster on some pretext 
or other, but, underneath his action was the purpose 
to combine that office with the duty of timekeeper. 
He would make the timekeeper take charge of both 
offices and thus cut down expenses. True, the time- 
keeper would receive a little increase in his wages, 
but on the whole, it would be a saving to the company 
of fifty dollars a month. The old timekeeper did not 
see it that way. He had, by the change, to labor on 
the pay-rolls in the office, act in the capacity of under 
bookkeeper and trudge through the works twice a 
day to see if the men were on hand working, and he 


188 


BOSS TOM. 


thought the remuneration not sufficient and so had re- 
signed. Gwynne was genuinely sorry, for he was an 
efficient man, but he was not sorry to the amount of 
any increase. The trouble was now to find a man 
capable of doing the arduous work that the former 
man had done. 

While waiting upon Reeber, his thoughts went off 
in another direction and he thought of Tom Penhall 
and the letter he had received that afternoon. Why 
was that money not in his hands instead of Tom .Pen- 
hairs? Tom, though skilled in mining science, was 
never likely to become anything more than an ordinary 
mine foreman. He was ignorant even of the proper 
use of the English language, — couldn’t even speak 
a sentence without bringing in some of his outlandish 
dialect. That money added to the amount that he 
already had, would make him, Owen Gwynne, indepen- 
dent and would open up other fields to his ambitious 
soul. Was he always to be nothing else than a mine 
superintendent, a hireling of others? Then a thought 
struck him that made him sit bolt upright. “The very 
thing!” he said, with some emphasis, and then paused 
to think. William, his son, he knew had a tender 
feeling for Tom’s daughter. He had fathomed that 
much only lately. Tom was ignorant, but what of that. 
His daughter was good looking, comparatively cul- 
tured, and was the only child and Tom was getting 
old. He had intended to prevent his son visiting 
Tom’s place, but now that Tom had money — that was 
a horse of a different color and it might not be so bad 
after all. If William should marry Tom’s daughter 
and inherit the amount, it would not be hard to com- 
bine capital and start in on an independent venture 
and he, Gwynne, would be the chief man of the com- 
pany. It would pay to assist the case as much as pos- 
sible and be friendly disposed towards Tom. 

There was a rap on the office door, and calling to the 
person to come in, the door opened and the very sub- 
ject of his thought stood before him, Tom Penhall. 


BOSS TOM. 


189 


“Come in, Mr. Penhall, come in !” exclaimed the 
superintendent, cordially, and he shook Tom’s hand 
warmly. Tom wondered in the simplicity of his heart 
at this unwonted cordiality from his superintendent, 
who had appeared rather distant heretofore. So 
dumfounded was he at first that he could not speak. 

There was a striking contrast between the two men. 
Tom, brown haired, his rugged, open face slightly 
marked with a blue coal cut here and there, and with 
honest blue eyes, that revealed the sincere soul within, 
was a striking type of the skilled scientific miner. 
Gwynne, dark, and of equal size, with dark eyes and 
heavy features, likewise represented the typical miner, 
but there was something of the veneer and polish that 
experience with the upper classes brings, and a cer- 
tain shrewdness that even cordiality could not conceal. 
Tom found his voice at length. “I come in to see ’ee, 
Mr. Gwynne, about the vacancy in the timekeeper’s 
position.” 

“Well,” said Gwynne, “I was just thinking about 
that and was awaiting Mr. Reeber to see him in refer- 
ence to it. Do you have any one to suggest, Mr. 
Penhall?” 

“I ’ave,” said Tom, coming to the point at once. “I 
think, Mr. Gwynne, that we ought to give the prefer- 
ence to our own men, — the men that ’as worked them- 
selves up in our own employ and ’ave showed that they 
could be trusted. Now, we ’ave two boys, I suppose 
that I ought to say men, for they are men now, that 
’ave passed the mine foreman’s examination.” 

“O’Donnel and Penryn,” interrupted Gwynne, for 
the fact that they had passed the mine foreman’s exam- 
ination was known to the whole village. 

“Yes, Jimmy and George,” added the boss, “and I 
’ave taken a sight of interest in they boys since they 
were mule boys in the gangway, and would like to see 
them get up a bit ’igher.” 

“You are not aware, though, Mr. Penhall, that the 
position of timekeeper also includes the work of as- 


190 


BOSS TOM. 


sistant paymaster, and a knowledge of bookkeeping 
is absolutely essential. Do the young men of whom 
you speak know anything about the latter?” 

Tom’s face fell for a moment for he had cherished 
the idea that here would be a chance for one, at least 
of his favorites to better his condition. The studies 
that the young men had taken up did not include book- 
keeping. Then he remembered that one, George, had 
taken up that study privately and he accordingly in- 
formed the superintendent of the fact. 

“George has taken up the study, I believe, and 
knows summat about it, and I would take it as a favor, 
Mr. Gwynne, that ef the lad es fitted for the position, 
you can give ’im the lift, for it will encourage ’im. He’s 
honest and steady and deserves a ’igher position than 
’e ’as.” 

“Well, send the young man up here, and Reeber and 
I will see him. If he can do the work he shall have the 
position. I always like to do a favor to a friend, Mr. 
Penhall, whenever I can.” 

Tom was very much pleased to have things turn out 
so favorably. Gwynne had never treated him so af- 
fably before. He was a kinder man at heart than he 
had at first supposed. He appeared a little hard at 
first, but that was his way of doing business, he 
thought. He met George returning from work and 
told him of the new opening and urged him to go up 
to the office at once. George had not been at Tom’s 
house since that memorable evening when he had ex- 
perienced such a fit of jealousy at the presence of 
young Gwynne. He had even avoided Tom, himself, 
and had been silent and morose to Jimmy and others. 
That fit of jealousy had made a different man out of 
him, however. It had passed away and left in its 
place a calm, settled purnose of excelling young 
Gwynne, and he was working hard for the attainment 
of it. He was grateful for Tom’s interest in him, and 
hastened off to meet the paymaster and superintend- 
ent in the office. When he emerged from the office 


BOSS TOM. 


191 


there was a glow upon his countenance that revealed 
that he had been successful. Tom was lingering 
around in the vicinity, no doubt awaiting to see the 
outcome. He approached and asked him and, having 
received the favorable news that he was expecting, 
clapped him on the back in his old hearty manner and 
bade him hurry home and tell his mother of his good 
fortune. 


192 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

APPLYING THE SCREWS. 

O N THE following morning there was quite a 
crowd of men gathered around a notice posted up 
in the engine house. Engineer Bill Smith was at 
his post and had seen the notice first, and was reading 
it for the benefit of those that could not get near 
enough to peruse it themselves. 

NOTICE. 

There will be a reduction of wages of ten 
per cent, on all company men ; it will affect 
timbermen, roadmen, drivers, top-men, bot- 
tom-men, slate-pickers and loaders. It will 
go into effect on August 1st. 

OWEN GWYNNE, Superintendent. 

The reading of this filled the listeners with bitter 
thoughts toward Gwynne and those in authority. 
There were growling oaths from some, and scowls on 
the faces of others. 

“Ten per cent, is not much to him, but it manes a 
good bit to us,” growled a brawny Irishman. 

“That doant affect we,” said old Dicky Curnow, 
“but et is a shame, anyhow, so et is.” Dicky had be- 
come tired of timbering and had secured a breast in 
Number One. He was now thankful that he had. 

“An outrage!” exclaimed big Bill Smith. 

“Em glad I’m not a company man,” said Ned 
Thomas, “I find it hard enough to get along on the pay 

I get now, and if it should be reduced ” 

“Bide awee,” interrupted Clyde, the pumpman, “the 


BOSS TOM. 


193 


miner’s time will come. Gwynne is too fair a man to 
cut one and not to cut all.” 

“Fair!” exclaimed Jimmy, who was exasperated to 
think that his wages were to be reduced. “He’s just 
like the great crow that divided the cheese between the 
two animals that come to him for judgment in the 
case. He nibbles off a piece on one side and then on 
the other to make the two even, and after a time he 
will be swallowing the whole for costs.” 

“Him not a good man like Boss Tom,” said Tony, 
the driver. “Boss Tom not cut de pay.” 

“No, y’re right there,” said Jimmy. 

Red Jerry Andra entered and also read the notice. 
“Putting the screws on all around?” 

“Except on we miners,” answered old Dicky. 

“Yes, and the screws be on the miners, too; did ye 
hear the news?” 

“How’s that?” asked several. 

“Black powder gone up to two dollars and ninety 
cents a keg and dualin powder gone up to twenty-two 
cents a pound.” 

“I told ye that ye wad get yer turn,” said Mike 
Clyde. 

It was the miners’ turn to scowl and mutter. Old 
Dicky was aghast and Ned and others were emphatic 
in their denunciations of this “highway robbery,” as 
they called it. 

“Here, Tony, I want to see you,” said a voice from 
the door. It was Assistant Superintendent Moore and 
Tony Luccaque, the Italian driver, went without to 
ascertain what was wanted. 

“Now what does Moore want with Tony?” said Ned 
Thomas. 

“Not to benefit Tony, ye may depend,” answered 
some one. Then the conversation went on about 
Superintendent Gwynne and the reductions. 

“Are your wages cut, Bill?” asked Mike Gallagher, 
timberman, of big Bill, the engineer. 


194 


BOSS TOM. 


“Not yet, but I expect them to be at sometime or 
other for I’m no better than the rest.” 

“Well, he can’t cut mine, I can tell ’ou, for I’m on 
contract work,” said Phillips. 

“They’ll cut ’ou too, never fear,” said John Jones, 
another timberman. 

“Is big boss’ wages cut, too?” asked, innocently, 
Mike Gusha, who, being a Hungarian, failed to see the 
origin of the cutting of wages. All laughed. 

“No, no, Mike,” said Jack George. “They’ll not 
cut his wages. He would hardly cut his own.” 

“Yes, but Hoyt will if he doesn’t make the mine pay 
better than McCue did,” said Jimmy. 

“I heard that that was what McCue was sent off 
for,” said Ned Thomas. 

While this conversation was going on inside, Moore 
was interviewing Tony outside the engine house. 

“Tony, you don’t buy enough out of the store,” began 
the assistant superintendent. “You buy too much at 
other places and if you want to keep your job, you will 
have to buy more from the company.” 

“Me buy five dollars and must pay board. No can 
buy more unless me give it away.” 

“Aren’t you married ?” 

“No.” 

“Oh, that is all right, then. We thought that you 
were married. You had better buy a little more any- 
how and perhaps you will get a better job,” Moore 
said and then left him. 

Tony entered the engine room a little sulky but 
much relieved. 

“What’s wrong, Tony?” asked several. 

“What is?” asked Clyde. 

“Him say I no buy enough in store. Him discharge 
me if me no buy more. I say I buy five dollars and 
must pay board and no can buy more. Him say then, 
—you no married, — and I say — no. Him say all right. 
Him thought I was married.” 

All looked at one another in a perplexed manner. 


BOSS TOM. 


105 


“Now, what does Moore mane by that?” asked Mike 
Gallagher. 

“Maybe it is only an excuse to get rid of you, Tony,” 
suggested Fatty Book. 

“No, Tony is too good a driver for that,” said Sandy, 
the driver boss; “since George Penryn and Jimmy 
there left driving, we don’t have a better driver in the 
mines than Tony.” 

“Him say he no discharge me ; it all right because 
me no married,” said Tony. 

“Es it come to that?” said simple-hearted Dicky 
Curnow, “that when a man gets married ’e must be 
turned off. I doant know what’s to become of we, 
then.” 

Ned Thomas gave a sly wink at Red Jerry, and then 
chimed in soberly. “And it’s not only that, Dicky, but 
I ’eard that Gwynne was going to dock a man in cars 
for the size of his family. Do ’ee see, Gwynne means to 
save wherever he can, and when a man that rents a 
house has a large family, the children tear it up so bad 
with their pranks that it is a loss to the company, and 
Gwynne means to dock a man to pay for the repairs. 
If he has five children in his family he gets docked so 
many cars, and if he has more than five he gets docked 
more cars.” 

Old Dicky, who had taken Ned in earnest, was hor- 
rified at such injustice. “Oah, oah, what are us com- 
ing to?” 

Jimmy O’Donnel, who had been thinking soberly 
all the time, now spoke as if he had solved the problem. 
“I have it; Ned, do you remember when Wilt came 
into the mine some time ago?” 

“I know now,” said Ned, his eyes brightening with 
understanding. 

“Well, what is it?” asked big Bill. 

“Why,” said Ned, “Wilt came into the mine some- 
time ago and took down the names of all the men and 
where they lived, and whether they were married or 
single. I see it all now though we all didn’t know 


196 


BOSS TOM. 


what to make of it at that time. Wilt said that 
Gwynne wanted to get the names.” 

“Well, what has that to do with Moore threatening 
to discharge Tony?” asked Bill. 

“Why, you ninny,” said Ned, “it’s as plain as a nose 
on a man’s face. They mean to make every man buy 
more out of the store or discharge him if he doesn’t. 
A married man must buy more than a single man ; 
that’s why they asked Tony if he was married.” 

“Gwynne would sell his father to make profit,” 
said one. 

“That’s downright tyranny,” said Bill, as he jerked 
up the oil-can and proceeded to oil the machinery. 
Some of the men said nothing, but it was plain from 
their looks that the news was anything but agreeable 
to them. 

“Gwynne is all for profit,” said one. 

“That’s why he discharged the old docking boss and 
put that man, Henny, in his place. The old docking 
boss didn’t dock enough to suit him,” said Clyde. 

Just at this time Bill blew the whistle with a jerk 
and the miners and company men hastened to get into 
the waiting car. Gallagher, as he passed the notice 
of reduction in wages, ejected a stream of tobacco 
juice upon the offensive paper, which action was sig- 
nificant of the sentiments of the men in reference to 
Gwynne’s new policy. Big Bill moved the lever, and 
soon the whole building was throbbing with the sound 
of turning machinery. 

Outside the breaker was the sturdy figure of Peter 
Dolan. Boss Peter was alone, and the brightness of 
the July morning seemed to affect him pleasantly, for 
he was doing something that was rare for Peter. He 
was humming, half audibly, as he scanned the hills, an 
old song that seemed to bring back distant memories : 

“By Killarney’s lakes and fells, 

Emerald isles and winding bays, 

Mountain paths and woodland dells, 


BOSS TOM. 


197 


Memory ever fondly strays. 

Bounteous nature loves all lands, 

Beauty wanders everywhere, 

Footprints leaves on every strand, 

But her home is surely there. 

Angels fold their wings and rest 
In that Eden of the west; 

Beauty’s home, Killarney, 

Ever fair Killarney. 

“And it’s so. Beauty smiles on every land, but it’s Kil- 
larney that is her home,” said Peter, as he sniffed the 
air and gazed on the hills. Peter’s old home had been 
in the neighborhood of Killarney. While gazing at 
the landscape, a figure near by drew his attention. 
The figure was rapidly approaching; it was Pat 
O’Donnel. 

“Good morning, Pat, and how are ye, and it’s a 
pleasant day that makes one think of the ould 
country.” 

Pat didn’t look as if the morning had been a 
pleasant one for him. There was an angry look upon 
his countenance that his first words supplemented. 
Pat was mad, angry, wrathful, as wrathful as an Irish- 
man can be when under much provocation. If he had 
had a shillelah in his hand and he had met the 
object of his wrath, that person would have re- 
gretted it. 

“The morning is nice, but I’m not after thinking of 
it, Peter. I don’t naturally like to be chated and it is 
that that is stirring me timper until I feel like giving 
that new docking boss of yours a bating that will be 
after making him honest or make him give up his job.” 

“Why, what is the mater, now?” 

“He is docking too much. He docked me tin cars !” 

“Were they clean coal?” 

“Some were a little dirty; but where can we put 
dirt?” 


198 


BOSS TOM. 


“Here he comes now,” said Dolan. 

Henny, the new docking boss, was seen approach- 
ing. He was a man about forty years of age and had 
been a servile tool of Gwynne in the Prosperity Col- 
liery, where both had served the company in their 
present respective positions. His action there con- 
jointly with Gwynne had caused the strike of some 
years previous. Henny was an American of German 
descent. He had been a strict adherent of the maxim, 
“Remember number one” — and his own material in- 
terest had always been on the side of the company. 
He was indeed a faithful pupil and follower of Gwynne, 
and that worthy knew that he could be depended upon 
to subject principle and all things to his interest. 

“I want to know why ye docked me those tin cars 
of coal. O’Donnel is me name and the cars were just 
as good as any cars that iver come out of the mine. 
They were so.” 

“That is my business, Mr. O’Donnel,” said Henny, 
a trifle shortly. 

“Now, the foul fiend fly away wid ye!” exclaimed 
O’Donnel in a rage, and his face flushed with anger at 
this short answer. “Do ye think that ye can dock 
widout any wan asking a question? Do ye think that 
ye can rob a man and him not ask the razon why? I 
want to know why ye docked thim cars and I’m going 
to have me answer.” 

“Well, if you must know why I docked them cars, I 
suppose that I’ll have to give you an answer that 
mightn’t suit you,” said Henny, constrained to answer 
by the defiant demeanor of O’Donnel. “Some 
I docked for light loading.” 

“Hold on ! I niver sent a car out that wasn’t loaded 
and well loaded at that.” 

“You did that very thing,” reiterated Henny. 

O’Donnel grew purple in the face, and he advanced 
to strike the docking boss. “Ye would make a liar out 
of me, would ye? Curse ye for the dog that ye are!” 

Dolan stepped between the irate O’Donnel and the 



“Ye would make a liar out of me, would ye ?” 

(Page 198) 





















































BOSS TOM. 


199 


docking boss. “Come, now, ye can’t be after fighting 
here, O’Donnel.” 

“He called me a liar and would ye have me stand 
that, besides the chating and robbing me of thim 
cars ?” 

“That’s all a mistake, Mr. O’Donnel, I didn’t call 
you a liar,” faltered Henny, who did not relish a con- 
flict with the hardy, enraged Irishman. “I had no in- 
tention of calling you a liar, and perhaps there was 
some mistake about the cars. I’ll look it up.” 

“There, he has apologized, Pat,” said Dolan, “and 
now quit yer aggressiveness (Dolan had learned that 
word from Mary) and hold in yer timper.” 

Henny, in the meantime, withdrew from the scene 
which had threatened to be so disastrous for him and 
quickly, as if on business, disappeared in the breaker. 

“There, ye have acted the fool, Pat O’Donnel. If ye 
hadn’t been so aggressive, ye would have gained yer 
point anyway. Ye haven’t gained nawthing and ye 
have made an enemy of Henny, and ye can look out 
for Gwynne, now,” said Dolan. 

“I wish that I had struck him, mane dog that he is !” 
said Pat in some wrath. 

“No ! it is better as it is ; now take me advice and 
don’t say nawthing about it.” 

Boss Tom Penhall, and a few others who had seen 
the commotion from a distance and had heard a little 
of the conversation, now approached. 

“Now, whas all the row about?” asked Tom. 

“Row!” said O’Donnel, for he was still smarting 
from the loss of his ten cars of coal. “That dog of a 
docking boss chated me out of tin of me cars of as pure 
coal as iver went out of the mine and I’ll not stand it ! 
I could stand wan or two, but the like of tin, — that is 
too much !” 

“It’s not him ’ou must blame, it is Gwynne. He’s 
got to do it to keep his job with Gwynne,” said Jones. 

“Were they clean cars?” asked Boss Tom. 

“A little bit dirty, but the most were clane coal.” 


200 


BOSS TOM. 


Tom’s eyes flashed in indignation, but he said 
nothing. 

“He’s a dirty cur, and so is Gwynne. I wish I had 
the chance to strike thim both,” said Gallagher. 
Gallagher and Jones did not go down in the car with 
the others. 

“Gwynne would discharge ’ou,” said Jones. 

“Let him, I can get work in other mines.” 

“Come, come, men, we mustn’t ’ave any talk like 
that,” said old Boss Tom. “The men will get their 
rights, but they can’t get them by abusing the super- 
intendent,” and the men were silenced at Tom’s rebuke 
for they respected him. 

“Well, it is hard for a man to be chated of his 
just dues,” said Gallagher. 

“We’ll ’ave to see about it,” said Tom. 

Gallagher and Jones withdrew to their work and 
Dolan and Tom were left alone. 

“We are going to have trouble, Tom,” said Dolan. 

“It looks like it but we won’t meet it afore it comes.” 

“Of course, we have got to be careful, or they will 
be on to us,” said Dolan, reflectively. 

Tom nodded, and then called to Mike Gusha, who, 
having failed to get a seat in the slope car, was 
proceeding to the manway to walk down. “ ’Ere, 
Mike, I want to see you a bit,” shouted Tom, and then 
as he approached nearer at the summons, Tom glanced 
at him. “What is the matter with ’ee, Mike? You 
look so sour and cross?” 

“Matte, me must eat more or big boss sack me!” 
exclaimed the Hungarian in an indignant tone. 

“Eat more!” said Dolan, and he and Tom laughed 
at the lugubrious, sullen face of the Hungarian. “You 
look big enough already.” 

“Me buy thirteen dollars for store. Moore say me 
get sixty dollars for pay ; me must buy for store thirty 
dollars. Me got one frau— and three babies, and bov 
work for breaker. No can eat more. Company 


BOSS TOM. 


201 


butcher, him say, ‘What for you, what for you, no buy 
meat? Your man, him no get no work, him no buy.’ ” 

“Where do ’ee buy, Mike. You eat more that that.’' 

“Mike Garouski, him got store and meat; him give 
bottle beer, you buy one dollar.” 

“Oh, I see,” said Dolan. 

“Mike, when ’ee go down, tell Phillips I want to 
see ’im.” 

Mike, having received this word from Tom, departed 
and Tom turned to Dolan. “Thas a downright shame ! 
Our turn will come next, Peter.” 

“They can’t get much more from me ; my family is 
large,” said Peter. 

“Well, my bill is small and I suppose I shall ’ear 
from them.” 

“ ’Ere come’s Moore.” 

“ ’E looks mad like.” 

“Hello, Moore! What’s the hurry?” 

“Oh, bother the mine! You fellows have it easy and 
I have all the dirty work to do. I have a notion to 
tell Gwynne to let you fellows do this work.” 

“Better not,” said Dolan. 

“Gwynne will discharge ’ee,” said Tom. 

Moore looked excessively irritated and out of hu- 
mor. “Here the men jump upon me as if it was my 
fault, and I can’t help it. It is Gwynne that is back of 
it all. Well, I have only a few more names.” 

“How do Gwynne know who dales in the store, and 
who don’t?” asked Dolan. 

“You know the names that Wilt took?” 

Dolan nodded. 

“Well, here they are,” and Moore pulled out a paper 
and handed it over to Dolan and Tom. The paper was 
arranged as follows : 

Name Res. M. or S. W. S. But. Remarks. 

N. Thomas Mayoton Married $60 $45 $12 Excellent. 

P. Phillips “ “ 70 42 18 Good. 

M. Gusha “ “ 60 13 00 Bad. 

and so the list continued. 


202 


BOSS TOM. 


“Now,” continued Moore, “Wilt gets the names, 
whether they are married or single, and the residences. 
Reeber puts down the amount earned for the last 
month. Brame, the store superintendent, puts down 
the amount of the store bill ; and the butcher, the 
amount of the butcher bill, and Gwynne does the re- 
marking. I have to do the dirty work.” 

“Mine there?” asked Boss Tom. 

“Yes,” said Dolan, “but neither yours or mine have 
any remarks. 

“I suppose that ours will come a bit later on,” 
said Tom. 

Moore went on his way, pursuing his unpleasant 
duty. 

“Well, between ’ee and me, Dolan, I shan’t alter my 
way of dealing nor I doant think that I shall buy any 
more either, than I do, no matter what they shall do.” 

“Nor I ather, Tom.” 

“Gwynne may think that this will increase the pro- 
fits of the company, and so et will, but I’m afraid that 
in the end et will be a strike and perhaps worse. Men 
won’t stand all things. Of course, Dolan, I wouldn’t 
talk like this afore the men, but you and I knaw that 
et esn’t right. Well, we must ’ope for the best.” 

The two bosses talked a little longer and then sep- 
arated to their respective places of work. 

“Whas the matter Jones?” asked Boss Tom of that 
timberman in making his way down the slope. Jones' 
was in a rage. 

“Matter! Brame, the store superintendent, was 
around to see the wife, and asked her why the store 
bill last month was twenty dollars and this month it 
was only ten. She said that last month we had 
bought dry-goods and we didn’t need dry-goods every 
month. Well, he said that she would have to buy 
more out of the store or it wouldn’t be well for her 
husband. He said that the store wagon would 
be around tomorrow with peaches. They are a 
dollar and a quarter a basket, and ’ou can 


BOSS TOM. 


203 


get them anywhere in town for eighty-five cents. 
He said that every family would have to take 
a basket. If I had been there I would have 
given that fellow a piece of me mind, and perhaps 
a piece of me fist, too. It’s an outrage. It has been 
making me mad all the morning, blit I held my peace 
until Moore just told me the same thing, although he 
said it wasn’t his fault as he had to do it.” 

‘‘And where are ’ee going now?” 

“I nearly forgot about what Phillips told me to tell 
’ou. He can’t get away for a minute or so, and told me 
to tell ’ou.” 

“Thas all right ; I’m going down there anyhow.” 

Boss Tom, followed by Jones, pushed on down the 
manway, Jones growling to himself, and Tom thinking 
and it was not hard to surmise the nature of his med- 
itations. 


204 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

MARY DOLAN’S SCHOOL. 

P.UE to his honest nature, Peter Dolan, breaker- 



boss and school director, had proposed his daugh- 


ter’s name for the primary school of Mayoton ; 
but in that proposal he had not concealed any facts as 
to his daughter’s age, neither had he used any undue 
influence upon his fellow directors. They had decided 
unanimously to bestow upon her the position notwith- 
standing her age. 

It was the opening of Mary’s second term. So suc- 
cessful had she been in the first that her election to 
another year’s service was universally demanded in 
Mayoton. She was engaged in her work one afternoon 
when a rap was heard at the door and, upon opening 
it, the smiling features of Jimmy O’Donnel were seen. 
Jimmy had worked only half a day that day, and made 
use of his spare time to call at the schoolhouse. It 
was wonderful to think what interest Jimmy took in 
school affairs ever since Mary was installed as pri- 
mary teacher. He would linger there frequently and 
in passing the school, even when upon pressing busi- 
ness, he would lag in his progress and proceed slowly, 
listening to the tones of the teacher and the sup- 
pressed murmur of the score or so of scholars. 

“Good morning, Miss Mary, and do ye allow visitors 
outside of the board men to call?” Jimmy had been in 
the habit of addressing Mary by the title of Miss Mary 
before the scholars. The more familiar name of Mary 
he reserved for other occasions. Mary had treated 
him a little coldly the last time he had met her, and 
he decided that he would ascertain the cause and re- 
move it if possible. 


BOSS TOM. 


205 


“Certainly, Mr. O’Donnel, come in,” said Mary, and 
Jimmy entered and took the proffered chair invitingly 
drawn forward for his use. 

Mary handed him a book and went on with her in- 
structions, while the visitor looked on, more inter- 
ested in the teacher than in book or scholars. She 
certainly looked most attractive in her neat, but plain 
school garb, and Jimmy thought that he would like to 
be one of the small urchins under her instruction. 
That little one, for instance, he thought, upon whose 
head she had placed her hand and smiled. How nice it 
would be if she would place her hand on his head and 
smile like that. If old teacher Mooney had done like 
that when he was a boy, he thought that he would be 
the best scholar in the school. He would so; and then 
he almost laughed as the mental image of old teacher 
Mooney’s grim “mug,” as he called it, being shrivelled 
up in an imitation of Mary’s smile, came before him. 
Yet, if teacher Mooney had been a bit kind with him, 
he would have attained to a higher position in life than 
he occupied. True, old Tom had helped him and he 
was now getting on fairly well. He had, as well as 
George Penryn, passed the mine foreman’s examina- 
tion, but there was no position open to him. He had 
not been so fortunate as George, who had secured the 
position of timekeeper and assistant paymaster. 
Boss Tom had told him that he would have been sent 
for but he knew nothing of bookkeeping, and so could 
not fill the vacancy. He had taken up bookkeeping 
at the night school since that time, and he, in common 
with George, had taken up the studies of grammar and 
rhetoric, which they needed so badly. They had even 
made some attempts at starting a debating society on 
an extensive scale. They had secured the names of 
quite a number of young men of their own age and 
had the organization about consummated, when a 
place of meeting was proposed at the town hall. The 
hall was owned by the company, and Gwynne had con- 
trol over it. He, thinking that a society of that nature 


206 


BOSS TOM. 


might be the fomenter of strife between the men and 
the company, especially since the putting into execu- 
tion of some of his schemes had stirred up much dissat- 
isfaction among the men, refused the desired permis- 
sion and the society fell to the ground. George and 
Jimmy were not discouraged over this. They started 
a society on a small scale at each other’s homes. Pat 
O’Donnel never participated in the debates which 
were held. Neither did Ned Penryn. However, Ned 
Thomas had joined the society, and at times 
would take part in the discussion. Boss Tom would 
frequently come over to the Penryn home to see and 
listen, and he and Dolan and O’Donnel would act as 
an audience. Those meetings had benefited them very 
much and had improved their speech, although, at 
times, it seemed that a little of the old boyish dialect 
would cling to Jimmy and manifest itself. 

Yes, if teacher Mooney had taught him in as kind 
a manner as Mary was teaching these little fellows, he 
would have liked school. “I’ll wager,” thought Jimmy, 
“she doesn’t speak a cross word to them at all. She is 
that kind like and docile with them that they just obey 
because — because they have to, constrained by the 
gentleness of her manner.” Jimmy was disturbed in 
his reverie by a sharp command in which there was 
little of docile tenderness. 

“James, bring that here, this instant!” 

Jimmy arose instinctively in his seat. Could it be 
that Mary would speak so sharply to him? No, it was 
a little fellow called James, — Jimmy Gallagher was 
his name among the boys, — James was the stately 
name by which he was known in the school. Jimmy 
O’Donnel, having arisen at the sharp command, 
looked around a little sheepishly and then, to hide his 
confusion, ostensibly examined a wall map, when hav- 
ing satisfied his curiosity in regard to the Great 
Sahara Desert, he sat down again. Could it be 
that the tender Mary could speak as sharply 
as that? That was the way that teacher Mooney had 


BOSS TOM. 


207 


spoken to him when he was small. No, he thought, 
it was not like that. There was something in Mary’s 
tone even when she was angry that was beautiful. He 
even envied the little fellow that was rebuked so heav- 
ily for not attending to his lessons and playing with 
an apple. 

How much she had improved in the little time she 
had been teaching school. It seemed that she had 
budded into the smart woman of affairs all at once. 
She indeed looked like an empress, Jimmy thought, 
as she rebuked James Gallagher for wasting his time 
in school hours. Jimmy had never seen an empress, 
but he had often read of them and thought the de- 
scription fitted Mary very well. That queenly attitude 
of hers was something that he had not observed before- 
It had taken the school to bring that out, he thought. 
He must study hard or Mary would become so far 
above him that when the time would come to — to — to 
yes, propose, she mightn’t listen to him. He must be 
better educated than he was and must get up in the 
world farther or there wouldn’t be any chance with 
Mary, sure. She was not like teacher Mooney, after 
all, he thought, for even when she was cross she didn’t 
punish. That was the way to teach, to rebuke sharply 
but not to “wallop a fellow around.” Mary had an 
ideal way to be sure. What a brutal method was the 
old way of teaching ; when a little fellow would offend, 
they would “whack him over the fingers” with a ruler 
or on the shoulders with a birch rod. Now Mary, in the 
kindness. of her heart, would never-— 

He was again interrupted in his thoughts by a sharp 
expression from Mary. A little fellow had upset his 
ink, and the stroke she gave him with a ruler came 
clear and distinct to Jimmy’s ears. Jimmy was con- 
strained to give vent to a half audible chuckle for the 
thing brought back to his memory a similar scene, 
in which he and another boy, a Pennsylvania German, 
by name Peter Reese, had participated. In Jimmy’s 
school days it was customary for the pupils to bring 


208 


BOSS TOM. 


their own ink, and Peter had brought in lieu of ink a 
bottle of his mother’s blueing, secured with a paper 
stopper as a cork. They used to have a game between 
themselves for they were seat mates ; Peter would 
hide the ink here and there around the desk while he 
would shut his eyes. When it was well hidden, Peter 
would say, “Now you can’t find it,” and he would hunt 
for it and when found would say, “Yes I can — I got it.” 
The occasion that Jimmy thought of, was when Peter 
hid the ink bottle in, as he thought, a secure place, and 
gave the accustomed invitation to hunt for it. He had 
searched in vain through the desk for it, when he 
observed an expression of blank dismay, horror, and 
alarm, spreading over the broad features of Peter, then 
came the sound of drip, — drip, — drip, — upon the school- 
house floor. Peter had placed the bottle in the capa- 
cious pocket of his blue drilling trousers and the paper 
stopper had come out. He remembered how teacher 
Mooney, with a horrible grin on his face, had jerked 
them both out upon the platform and given them both 
a whaling, as they termed it in those days. 

The chuckle was heard by Mary, who gave him an 
awful look that drove all the laugh out of his throat. 
He thought that she must be offended with him. It 
was not such a bad thing, after all, since Mary did the 
punishing, to get a crack with a ruler. And the little 
chap was crying, too. Jimmy was indignant; he 
ought to be glad that Mary, in the kindness of her 
heart punished him. How Mary comforted the little 
lad ! He believed he would rather get a rap like that and 
then get patted on the head and smiled at, than get the 
reproachful look that he had received. Yes, he thought, 
he would upset an ink bottle every day of his life to 
get treated like Mary was treating that lad after she 
had rapped him. He would so, he mentally said. 

But the hour for closing had now come, and the 
books having been laid aside, Mary prepared to dis- 
miss the scholars. Now, thought Jimmy, as the little 
pupils walked in orderly file out of the schoolhouse 


BOSS TOM. 


209 


door, he would have a talk with Mary and tell her why 
he had laughed, and perhaps he would walk all the way 
home with her. But he was doomed to disappoint- 
ment, for Alice Penhall met her without the school, 
and began a conversation before he had gotten in a 
word. He trudged alongside hoping, trusting that 
Alice would leave, but there seemed no termination 
to the talk. 

There was a muddy pool of water directly in the 
road. Here was a chance to show his devotion and 
gallantry to Mary. Would she take his arm? he asked 
and received the laughing, provoking answer that 
Mary had an arm of her own. Then would she allow 
him to carry her umbrella? No, she thought she might 
need it for it might rain. Jimmy trudged on in silence. 
He was getting a trifle cross. He couldn’t understand 
why Mary treated him in that manner. She had been 
cold to him of late. Maybe she thought that now as 
she was a school teacher, she was above him. To be 
sure she was for that matter. There was a 
twinkle in Mary’s eyes, and she looked a little 
roguishly at Alice. The conversation drifted upon 
young William Gwynne, the law student and super- 
intendent’s son, who was going away soon, his vaca- 
tion nearly ended. He was a gentlemanly young man 
and well educated and knew how to behave so well, 
said Mary. He had called at her school the other day. 
Jimmy started as if he had been shot, and the fiery 
twinge of jealousy, never experienced before, shook 
him. 

He had come into the school, continued Mary, and 
he had behaved so well. He did not laugh at the 
scholars or teacher, and had made such a nice speech 
before the school had closed. He had smiled and 
raised his hat to her the other evening, also. She 
thought that he was a perfect gentleman. 

Jimmy became more reticent and gloomy. He talked 
to Alice a little, but said not much to Mary after that. 
He was going away, he said, going to leave the town. 


210 


BOSS TOM. 


there wasn’t any work there that he liked. He finally 
left them at the office buildings, and wended his way 
home. 

“Mary, aren’t you ashamed! Poor fellow, how can 
you tease him so?” 


BOSS TOM. 


211 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

CHOIR PRACTICE. 

I T WAS the night of the practice of the Methodist 
Church choir. Old Boss Tom, partly because he 
liked the singing, and partly because he liked the 
company that the practice brought, had invited them 
to meet at his home, offering as an inducement that 
if they would meet there during the nice days of the 
early fall, they might also meet there during the cold, 
inclement weather of the .following winter. This was 
quite an allurement to the choir members, as the 
church was not well heated on many choir practice 
nights of the winter season. And so they had all as- 
sembled at Boss Tom’s place. There was the leader, 
old Dicky Curnow, and the basses — Boss Tom, big Bill 
Smith and Ned Thomas; there were the tenors, Philip 
Phillips and George Penryn, all present. The alto was 
represented by Nellie Penryn, who had developed a 
sweet, strong voice, and was also the assistant organ- 
ist, while Alice Penhall, who officiated at the organ, 
carried the soprano. Belle Phillips was also one of the 
soprano singers but, being unwell that evening, was 
unable to attend. 

Ned came into the choir sometime after the concert 
of some years before, as a substitute. Old Dicky, 
though he had cautioned him to sing soft like, as he 
expressed it “an then if ’ee do make a mistake nobody 
would ’ear ’ee,” found out that Ned had a pretty fair 
voice and so allowed him to remain as a permanent 
member. There was another reason that Dicky never 
mentioned to any one, and that was on account of 
Ned’s joke about the tickets. Dicky thought that Ned 
would do less harm in the choir than outside of it and 


212 


BOSS TOM. 


his presence would end his practical jokes at his 
expense. 

The hymns for the following Sabbath had been 
handed to the leader, by the minister, some time be- 
forehand, and they were hymns that delighted Tom 
Penhall’s heart. 

“I do like they hold hymns,” Tom was saying. “Now 
there’s ‘Come ye Disconsolate/ and ‘Come Thou 
Fount of Every Blessing/ they can’t be beat. Nothing 
like them in the new fangled music.” 

“Tez so,” affirmed old Dicky Curnow, “there’s noth- 
ing like the hold tunes for music. Now there’s Haydn’s 
Creation ” 

“To do de do de do de do de do de do de do de do de,” 
interrupted Tom, running off the bass in the last stave. 

“ ’Old on, Tom, wost tha until we hall gets started,” 
exclaimed old Dicky, the leader, and Tom ceased his 
efforts at solo singing. 

“Must obey orders,” said big Bill. 

“We obey ’ou in the mines,” interjected Phillips, 
“but in the kier we must obey Dicky.” 

“Thas all right,” laughed Tom, “all right now, 
Dicky, go ahead, but Oh, I forgot, I mustn’t give or- 
ders to the choir.” The hymns were sung with 
fervor and then Tom wanted his favorite song sung, 
and all concurring, sang: 

“Sweeping through the gates of the new Jerusalem.” 

“Now,” said Tom, wiping his eyes, “that was better 
than Handel’s Messiah.” 

Old Dicky was shocked at Tom’s expression, for to 
say that anything was better than Handel’s Messiah, 
was equivalent to the rankest heresy to him. 

“Oah ! Oah ! Tom, Tom, Pm afraid that hall my 
teaching of this choir es of no account. Thee’rt not 
any furder on now than when I began to teach ’ee the 
rudiments of singing. To say that an old Sunday 
school piece es better than the Messiah! Oah! Oah! 
Thee doesn’t knaw nawthing.” 


BOSS TOM. 


213 


There was a burst of merriment in which Tom 
joined. 

“He means that it was better than the way the 
Messiah was sung at the concert a year or so ago, 
Dicky,” said Ned. Dicky shook his head. “I’m sur- 
prised at you, Tom, to say that. There’s nothing 
grander than the Messiah of Handel, and I like another 
piece of his tcfo, and that is the Twelfth Mass, or some- 
thing like that I believe they call it,” said Ned. 

“Oah! Ned, thee are getting wuss and wuss. It 
wadn’t Handel at all that wrote that ; that was Mozart. 
Thee knaw as much about singing and music as I do 
about ’rithmetic.” 

There was more merriment at the expense of Dicky 
and then the anthem was sung and resung until the 
old leader was satisfied, with all but Ned, who sang too 
loud for the others. 

“Doesn’t thee, Ned, baal out too strong like that, 
and ’ee too, Tom and Bill, doant ’ee sing as if there 
were a couple of ’undred on the soprano; ’ee baal and 
thunder like bulls of Bashan and drown the tune. 
Sing a bit softer.” The basses promised to follow 
Dicky’s instructions and the anthem was sung to 
Dicky’s satisfaction. Ned Thomas had to leave after 
the anthem was practiced and so took his departure ; 
the rest of the choir took a short rest before going over 
the music again. The chief topic of conversation was 
the rumor of a strike, that might tie up the whole re- 
gion. The men were getting dissatisfied with the ex- 
isting state of affairs in every mine of the district, and 
there were flying rumors of a shut down in the future. 
Tom, being a boss, was very reticent on the subject, 
except to express his sympathy with the suffering 
that would surely come as the result of a strike. 

“Some won’t suffer at all, and there are others that 
will ’ave a ’ard time of it. Take poor Ned Thomas, 
for instance. ’Is clothes need mending all the time, 
and then it is ’ard for ’e to save money and a strike is 
’arder upon that kind than all the others. I tell ’ee it 


214 


BOSS TOM. 


is ’ard for a man to save money when ’e doant have a 
saving wife to lay by something for the ’ard times.” 

This conversation was going on between big Bill 
and Tom, while the others were engaged in some 
theme between themselves. Tom winked upon Bill 
and having enjoined secrecy told him how Ned tried 
to save money so that his wife shouldn’t know it. 
“Ned turns in to his laborer five days more than his 
laborer works, so that it will appear on his check and 
then the laborer gives him the money and he banks it.” 

Bill expressed his sympathy for Ned. “Ned de- 
serves a better wife, and she deserves a hammering.” 
The others heard Bill’s expression and joined in the 
conversation between him and Tom. 

“Mustn’t whip a woman,” said George. 

“Sometimes they deserve it,” responded Bill. 

“Well,” said Nellie, “when I get married I will treat 
my husband nice. He shan’t have to complain of me 
not saving up money, and then he will have to treat 
me nice, too. He will have to wipe his feet when he 
comes into the house and I shall have his supper all 
ready for him and I shall be tidied up when he comes 
home and so will the house ; and then after supper, and 
the things are all cleaned up, I will sit down and play to 
him on the organ, and sing to him and make him for- 
get that he is tired at all. And if he wants to 
smoke in the house, he shall, and I will fill his pipe for 
him and light the match and — ” 

“Hold on !” exclaimed Bill, interrupting her, “I be- 
lieve that I will have you myself, Nellie, if that is the 
way you are going to treat your man.” 

Old Boss Tom and the others burst into a laugh that 
was loud and long, and Nellie was somewhat confused 
and then she laughed too. “Oh, you wouldn’t do 
at all,” said Nellie. 

“Why not?” asked Bill. 

“Well, in the first place you are too old, and then 
the man I’m going to have must have a carriage to 
drive me around, and a horse — ” 


BOSS TOM. 


215 


“Why,” said Bill, “I’m not old at all yet. I’m only 
twenty-seven, and as for the horse and carriage, why, 
Tom would let me have a mule out of the stables of the 
company any time. Wouldn’t a mule do?” 

“A mule! No!” said Nellie in some disdain, while 
Tom and all the company laughed again and again. 

“Bill, why don’t you get married? You are old 
enough,” said George. 

“I can do most anything but propose, and that some- 
how or other I never could do,” responded Bill. 

“If all were situated like Bill they wouldn’t need to 
get married, either. Bill ’as a good sister and a com- 
fortable home that ’is sister makes for un. She’s a 
good sister,” said Tom. 

“Yes,” said Bill, soberly, “the best girl in the state.” 

“That’s what young Gwynne thinks of Alice,” said 
Nellie, trying to tease Alice a little. 

“Don’t you have him, Alice, if he is like his father, 
for he’s a terror,” said Bill. 

“Allie don’t want any one but her father,” said the 
worthy Tom, “but speaking of — ” 

“If Alice has anybody he ought to be a preacher,” 
interrupted Bill, to which statement Alice only shook 
her head. 

“But speaking about Gwynne,” resumed Tom, “I 
can’t understand ’im at all. He seemed very gruff to 
me at first but now ’e is as pleasant as you please and 
even gave George there a job in the office, because he 
said he liked to see the young fellows of the mines get 
up and be promoted. I believe ’e ’as a kinder ’eart than 
we all give ’im credit for.” 

“I don’t believe that he ever did anything but what 
he was looking to his own interest,” answered Bill 
shaking his head dubiously. 

“He does seem ’ard at times,” continued Tom, “and 
I doant think that I wud do all the things that he 
does.” 

“No, no,” interjected old Dicky, “thee wudn’t do as 
’e does, that I knaw. Thee’rt too much of a Christian 


216 


BOSS TOM. 


for that. It wud be a good thing for the company and 
the men too, Tom, if ’ee wud be in his plaace.” Tom 
shook his head, the significance of which motion, no 
one knew. 

The practice now again began and after a time the 
company broke up, each one going to his or her re- 
spective home. 


BOSS TOM. 


217 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

OFFICE SCENES. 

G EORGE, I see that you have given those strip- 
ping men credit for twelve hours work last 
night.” 

The scene was in the paymaster’s department of the 
coal company’s office. There were only two present, 
George Penryn, the timekeeper and assistant pay- 
master, and Owen Gwynne, the superintendent. It 
was the latter that was speaking. He had, according 
to his custom, been examining the books of the com- 
pany and delving into every department. Nothing was 
suffered to pass unexamined by this indefatigable man. 

“I told Pat Develry, the stripping boss, not to allow 
the men to work any more than ten hours last night.” 
“They worked twelve hours,” answered George. 
“Well, that was the fault of the foreman and not the 
fault of the company, and the company is not going to 
pay any more than is necessary. Give them, when you 
hand in your report to the paymaster, but ten 
hours. They have no business to be working overtime. 
We have got to economize as much as possible in the 
running of the mine.” 

“But that would be cheating the men, Mr. Gwynne,” 
answered George. 

Here a rap was heard at the door, and upon its being 
opened the heavy form of Tom Penhall was seen on 
the threshold. “You sent for me, Mr. Gwynne,” 
said Tom. 

“Yes, yes, come into the private office, Tom, I want 
to have a talk with you.” Gwynne had fallen into the 
habit of calling the boss by his first name, as did all 
the men in the mine with the exception of the driver 


218 


BOSS TOM. 


boys and the foreigners, the Hungarians and Italians, 
who called him Mr. Tom to his face and Tom behind 
his back. 

Pausing a moment to tell George to do as he was 
ordered, Gwynne led the way into the private office 
of the company. 

George Penryn was in a dilemma. He ran his hand 
through his dark, curly hair and meditated for a mo- 
ment. Should he obey the superintendent? If he did, 
his conscience told him that he would be doing wrong. 
Had not Tom cautioned Jimmy and him, when he had 
given them their last lesson, that he must be honest 
to the company and to the men. On the other hand, 
if he should refuse to do as the superintendent told 
him to do, Gwynne would discharge him. Yes, he 
would, for other men had been discharged for less 
offenses since Gwynne had come into power. Well, 
what would it matter if he was discharged from the 
office, he would get a job in the mines once more. He 
didn’t care for this office work anyway. Then some- 
thing told him that if he did not obey Gwynne and he 
should get his discharge, Gwynne would be his enemy 
and he wouldn’t get a position in the whole mine. He 
knew that Gwynne had power in other mines or with 
other superintendents — that there was a sort of a spot- 
ting system between all superintendents and operators. 
He knew that Gwynne had spotted several men that 
were the leaders of the last strike when he was the 
superintendent of the Prosperity Colliery, and those 
parties had not secured positions in the whole coal 
region. If Gwynne did that with him — the very 
thought of it made him sick with apprehension. What 
was he to do? He knew not. He could not afford to 
be without a position just yet for a time. They needed 
his help at home, and he could not afford to throw 
away his present prospects. The wages were good, 
in fact, much better than he had ever received, and 
even more than his father’s wages. No, he could not 
afford to throw up his position and be out of work 


BOSS TOM. 


219 


throughout the whole region, perhaps. On the other 
hand, would it do to sacrifice his principles that had 
been the pride of his younger years ; those principles 
that had been instilled into his mind by parental train- 
ing; principles that his friend Boss Tom had so thor- 
oughly emphasized in all his teaching; would it do to 
throw them to the winds? 

George, notwithstanding his feelings against Tom 
heretofore on account of the presence of young 
Gwynne on that memorable night, was once more on 
good terms with him. He was more sober since that 
time and his soul was possessed with a great purpose, 
the equaling of young Gwynne in scholarship, if that 
was possible. It was that purpose that made him pro- 
pose to Jimmy the organizing of the debating club, 
and the study of grammar, rhetoric and the higher 
branches. Yes, and Alice had treated him kinder 
since that memorable evening. He realized that Tom 
in securing for him the position in the office, was as 
interested in him as ever. What would Alice think of 
him if he should do a piece of injustice like the one that 
was required of him? He knew, or thought he did, for 
she was the exact counterpart of her father, and he 
knew what Tom would think if he should bow to the 
force of circumstances to keep his position with 
Gwynne. Tom would have no more respect for him, 
and Alice, — ah ! Alice, for whose love he had been 
striving for such a long time, though unknown to her, 
how he would sink in her estimation. She could never 
love a craven-hearted tool of Gwynne. He would for- 
feit all that and then what was infinitely worse he 
would forfeit his own self-respect. On the other hand, 
if he should disobey Gwynne, he would keep his self- 
respect, the respect and esteem of Boss Tom and per- 
haps in time the love of Alice, but his position would 
be gone, and perhaps none to take its place. The 
home, that his parents had been picturing in their 
minds and had been longing for — the home with the 
green shutters and the grape vine near the door — 


220 


BOSS TOM. 


would perhaps never be realized. He would disappoint 
his mother and he could not bear to think of that. And 
the higher education that they meant to give Nellie 
would be a mere phantasy, a dream. He knew how 
but lately his father and mother had been talking about 
sending Nellie to a great musical school, — The New 
England Conservatory, he thought was the name of 
it, and it was away up in Boston and it would take a 
large sum of money to go there, but the talents of 
Nellie they thought justified the expense. They had 
planned this when the position in the office had come 
to him and he knew how Nellie had been building her 
hopes upon it. Nellie was now near sixteen, or was 
it fifteen, he had forgotten, but she was tall for her age 
and had progressed rapidly in her music under the in- 
struction of Alice. No, no, he could not sacrifice all 
his parents’ plans ; he could not disappoint his sister, 
Nellie; and on the other hand, he could not forfeit his 
respect for himself and the esteem of old Tom and 
Alice. And yet it was only a case of two hours. Tom 
might never know nor Alice, either, for that matter. 
Who was to tell them? No one. He had been strictly 
honest to the company and to the men heretofore. He 
called to mind that, not long since, a Hungarian 
had accosted him, asking him to give him more time 
on the books. “George, you give me more time on the 
books, and me give you box of cigars.” 

He had refused to thus cheat the company and had 
mentioned the matter to old Tom and he remembered 
how Tom patted him on the back and praised him. 
Yes, and he had evidently told Alice of it for she had 
treated him better than she had ever treated him be- 
fore. What should he do? He bowed his head down 
upon his desk in an agony of temptation and stayed 
thus for quite a time. Then he arose and almost ca- 
pered around the floor. “Fool that I am,” he at last 
said aloud. “I can not only be honorable and honest, 
but keep the letter of the instructions as well. I’ll do it.” 
A plan had matured in his head and he now put it 


BOSS TOM. 


221 


into execution. He hastily erased the twelve hours 
and inserted ten in the same place. His plan was to 
give the men ten hours as Gwynne had required, and 
then at some future date give them the two extra 
hours of which they had been deprived. He would 
thus outwit Gwynne, keep his position and his respect, 
and be honest to the men. The plan was a feasible 
one, and he laughed to himself as he thought of the 
simplicity of the thing. 

Meantime, Superintendent Gwynne was having 
quite an interesting talk with Boss Tom. Mr. Gwynne 
was seated in his office chair, Tom near by. The sup- 
erintendent had evidently some difficulty in starting 
the theme of conversation, but at length he succeeded. 
“Tom, you and I are good friends, I trust, and I know 
that you want to see the company prosper, and if there 
is anything that is right, you will do it for the good 
of your employers. Is it not so?” 

Gwynne paused for an answer. 

Tom’s rugged face looked a trifle perplexed when he 
heard this query. What did Gwynne mean by the 
question? He had done him a favor in giving George 
a position in the office and he had felt grateful for it. 

“If there es anything that es right that I can do for 
the benefit of the company, I will do my best,” simply 
said Tom. 

“I thought so,” said Gwynne. “The colliery has not 
paid as much as it should in the last few years, and 
I’ve been trying to increase the profits as much as pos- 
sible. Now that is what every just man should do. 
He should do his best for his employers. The miners 
must live and to live they must eat, and to eat they 
must buy. Now it stands to reason that they should 
patronize the men that give them employment and yet 
a great many of them don’t do it or do it but mea- 
gerly. They, that is some of them, buy their meat of 
other butchers than the company butcher, and pur- 
chase their goods of other stores than the company 
Store, and that won’t do. Now, the bosses ought to 


222 


BOSS TOM. 


set them an example in this matter. You don’t buy of 
the company butcher, Tom.” 

The point had come at last. 

Tom flushed a little and then answered : 

“I want to do what is right by the company, that is 
true, but then I want to do what is right by other 
people too. I never looked at it in that light. If I 
thought that the company was going under ’cause the 
men didn’t buy enough, I would do all I cud. But I 
want to be true to my friends. Now it is this way, Mr. 
Gwynne. I buy my meat of Lear, a poor man, that is 
trying to get along in the world, and es ’aving a ’arrd 
time of it. I ’ave bought meat of Lear for quite a time, 
and once when I was in bad circumstances, Lear 
trusted me and stood by me, and now I doant think 
that I wud be doing right to not patronize ’im. He 
needs the money more than the company does.” 

“Yes, but, Tom, if it was the case of you alone, it 
wouldn’t matter, but here are other men that are fol- 
lowing your example and not patronizing the company 
butcher, and that won’t do. The bosses must set an 
example to the men in this respect.” 

“I can’t see it that way, Mr. Gwynne. The most 
of the men, I believe, buy of the company butcher 
after all.” 

Gwynne was growing a little irritated and showed 
it. “Well, a man ought to assist the company that 
gives him work and a chance of earning a living, 
whether he is a miner or a boss. There are other men 
that would be glad to have the position of mine fore- 
man of Number One and — ” 

Tom was upon his feet, his face flushing and glow- 
ing with anger. It was the first betrayal of anger 
that he had shown thus far in the conversation. He 
could not speak for a moment. 

“Mr. Gwynne, I ’ave tried to do my duty in the 
mines and out, and I’m always ready to do a favor to 
anybody, but I’m a free man and won’t be threatened. 
I consider it my duty to ’elp the man that ’elped me. 


BOSS TOM. 


223 


Lear trusted me when I didn’t ’ave the money to pay, 
and now I’m going to ’elp ’im with my trade. If my 
work is not satisfactory, or if I got to buy of the com- 
pany butcher to keep my job, I prefer to resign and to 
leave. ’E art the first man that threatened me, and ’ee 
can ’ave my resignation for I won’t work for any man 
that wud threaten me. I — ” 

“Sit down, Tom! Sit down, Tom!” exclaimed 
Gwynne, a little hurriedly. He saw that Tom was not 
to be shaken and that he was getting a little angry. 
This man was a little too independent to be bullied, 
and he remembered that Hoyt said that he could not 
be discharged. Hoyt was Tom’s friend, it appeared, 
and then he remembered the incident about the letter. 
Yes, this man was soon to be the possessor of twelve 
thousand pounds. It would not do to antagonize old 
Tom thus. Tom was a power among the men, and 
there was quite a little dissatisfaction at the present 
time among them. “Sit down, Tom.” 

But Tom did not sit down but remained standing. 
He was tingling with indignation. 

“Of course, I did not mean to threaten you, Tom, or 
to ask for your resignation, or even to compel you to 
buy of the company butcher. But I wish for the good 
of the company, that you could do a little thing like 
that.” 

“I ’ave given my resignation,” said Tom, a trifle 
haughtily, and his face was still flaming with sup- 
pressed indignation. 

“Yes, but I won’t accept it,” said Gwynne. “You 
made a mistake. You thought I threatened you when 
there was nothing of the kind- If, now, you could just 
buy occasionally from the company butcher, it 
wouldn’t look so bad, and it would be an example to 
the other men. You needn’t sacrifice Mr. Lear at all, 
but as a personal favor I wish you could buy a little 
of the company man. Of course, you needn’t do it if 
you don’t want to ; you are perfectly free in the matter, 
but if you would do so, it would be a favor to me and 


224 


BOSS TOM. 


a return of the favor I did you when I gave George 
Penryn the position of timekeeper.” 

Tom was mollified and his anger vanished. Gwynne 
had at last struck the right chord in the honest man’s 
heart. 

“Well,” said Tom, slowly, “I think that I could do 
that and ef it will be a favor to ’ee, Mr. Gwynne, I will 
buy a little from the company man, now and then, but 
I don’t want to sacrifice Mr. Lear.” 

“That’s all right, Tom, and that is all I wanted in 
the beginning, only you misunderstood me a little, 
that is all.” 

Tom had his doubts whether that was all that he 
had wanted, but he said nothing. He wended his way 
out carrying his doubts with him. He had seen too 
much of the forcing system in his contact with the 
men. 


BOSS TOM. 


225 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PHILIP PHILLIPS’ HOME. 

P HILIP Phillips was in a quandary, or at least he 
seemed to be, for there was a worried look upon 
his rotund features. He was upon his way home 
from work and had just passed around the offices of 
the company and was wending his way to the row of 
houses in the rear of Quality Row, where was situated 
him home. This row, though not nearly so pretentious 
in appearance, or containing buildings so spacious as 
those in Quality Row still contained comfortable 
dwellings, and were far more sightly than the 
buildings behind the breaker where Boss Dolan 
lived. Like the other houses in Mayoton proper, 
they were all red-ochered and had a fair portion 
of green sward in front and garden in the 
rear. Phillips was a man who loved a comfortable 
home and neatness within and without. The 
various garden beds with their flowers and plants, the 
climbing rose vine that sheltered the side window from 
the sun, and the grape vine in the rear of the house, all 
attested the fact. 

Mrs. Phillips was a woman after his own heart in 
these respects. She was interested in flowers and the 
things of the garden and nobly did she second her hus- 
band’s efforts. Indeed one of the reasons of his early 
attraction for her was the fact that she seemed to love 
flowers and kindred things that were attractive to him. 
Their ideas in these directions were mutual. But there 
were other things concerning which they differed radi- 
cally. Philip realized that in his case marriage was 
somewhat of a lottery for he had received more than he 
had bargained for. Mrs Phillips, though she loved flow- 


226 


BOSS TOM. 


ers and nice things in general, loved these things at the 
expense of her husband’s pay and economy. Frequently 
did Philip remonstrate with her for the extravagance 
with which she did her purchasing, and there were 
many promises to be careful in the future, which prom- 
ises were only to be broken at the first opportunity 
that presented itself to her. Whether it was some ped- 
dler that presented some attractive, handsome shawl or 
piece of dress-goods, or whether she would notice the 
same in the company store, she was by nature bound 
to purchase it. Sometimes it was handsome furniture 
or bric-a-brac. Whenever Mrs. Phillips went to the 
store, the clerks were sure of selling a good bill of mer- 
chandise. Some said that it was due to this extrava- 
gance of Mrs. Phillips that her husband always had a 
good position, but Mrs. Phillips would have bought 
as much had her husband no position at all, provided 
that she could have secured trust. One thing there was 
that Phillips had to be thankful for, and that was that 
Henrietta was a good cook, though he often groaned 
mentally over the size of the grocery bill. It was not 
any wonder that Gwynne had placed opposite his name 
on the list that Wilt had secured the single word, 
good. 

Philip was troubled about the rumors of the strike 
that was threatening soon to envelope the whole re- 
gion. At this present time he knew that things would 
go pretty hard with them. He hoped that it wouldn’t 
come for a month at least. His home was nicely fur- 
nished from kitchen to attic, and within and without 
everything was clean and attractive, but he knew that 
besides a few dollars that he would receive from the 
company after his store bill should be paid, they had 
not a dollar in the world ; how were they to face a 
strike that might be of several months’ duration? He 
groaned within himself as he thought of it. Ned 
Thomas had told him in a burst of confidence of his 
plan of saving up a few dollars every month by turn- 
ing in a few extra days to his laborer and receiving the 


BOSS TOM. 


227 


money, thus unknown to his wife, and banking it. He 
had about decided to try the same plan, but if the strike 
should come upon them before they should receive the 
next month’s pay, the plan would be of no avail to 
stave off the wolf from the door. 

“’Ear the news, Phillips?” asked Ned Penryn, who 
had overtaken him on his way home. 

“What’s that?” 

“The men of the Meadow Mine and the Lowland 
Mines have gone out on strike this morning.” 

A white look came into Phillips’ face. He knew that 
they had been talking strike for a month past, but he 
had no idea that they would come out so soon. 

“The Prosperity miners ’ave gone out on strike too, 
and they are going to try and make the miners of the 
whole region come out and make hit a general strike 
to compel the hoperators to come to terms,” contin- 
ued Ned. 

“What are they demanding? What do they want?” 

“They said that they wanted a reduction in the price 
of powder, an increase of ten per cent, in wages, and 
no company store,” responded Penryn. 

“We ought to have that too, Ned. The prices are 
high, — higher than they ever were, but I hope they 
won’t strike here yet a bit. God pity some of the poor 
families that have no money for the future.” 

“Thas so,” said Ned, and there was a note of sym- 
pathy in his tone for he knew that among that num- 
ber would be Phillips, himself. The strike would af- 
fect every one and he knew that though he would not 
be in any danger of starving, — thanks to his saving lit- 
tle wife, — there would be many that would have a 
severe time of it. 

“If the mine operators would only think of the poor 
that will suffer by a strike, they would not allow one 
to come to pass. There’s the widow McGlyn and her 
two little boys. They work and support the whole 
family. They ’ave it ’ard enough when the mines 


228 


BOSS TOM. 


are working full time, and what will it be to them when 
the strike comes?” 

“It’s little to them, the operators, is a raise of ten 
per cent, and they could afford to give it.” 

“Well,” said Penryn, as he turned in at his gate, “I 
’ope that Mayoton won’t strike yet a bit.” 

“Was there any rioting?” 

“I ’eard that there were two men that got terribly 
beaten at the Lowland Mines ; one was a coal and iron 
policeman.” 

Penryn entered his home and Phillips continued on 
his way. “I will have to tell Henrietta to be saving,” 
he thought. The troubled look that was upon his coun- 
tenance vanished as he turned in at his own gate and 
the appetizing odor of a well-cooked supper greeted 
him. It did not take him long to change his clothes, 
and around the loaded table, with its various fragrant 
dishes, he soon forgot his apprehensions. Mrs. Phil- 
lips was pouring out the tea and Belle, his eldest 
daughter, was attending to the wants of the younger 
children and talking to her mother, at the same time, 
about certain dress goods. She had noticed Alice Pen- 
hall in, as she thought, a new lawn dress and was filled 
with the desire to have one, if not like it, yet better. It 
was late in the season for lawn dresses, but Belle was 
determined to have one if possible. Alice Penhall was 
an object of emulation to her. She had often com- 
pared herself to her and that comparison was favor- 
able, she thought, to Belle Phillips. She knew, or 
thought that she did, that Alice was no better than 
she was, in looks or anything. Alice, to be sure, was 
light haired and she was dark, but when she was 
dressed in her best, she could “cut the shine out of her,” 
as she often expressed herself to her mother. Then 
there was George Penryn. Alice was the only rival that 
she had. With the intuition of a woman she had discov- 
ered the feeling that George entertained toward Alice. 
If there was any one that was her rival it was Alice 
Penhall. Alice was designing, she thought. She had 


BOSS TOM. 


229 


made that dress simply to be considered nice in, the 
eyes of George. She knew. Well, George thought 
something of her, too, for had he not seen her home 
once, but that was some years ago. Yet he had not 
come to her party. She did not know the reason, and 
yet George treated her just as well as he treated Alice 
Penhall, for he had not come to a party that Alice had 
given. They said that George had to attend to the 
examination in some studies or other, but that was no 
doubt a subterfuge. She was not going to allow that 
Alice Penhall to “outshine her.” She would have a 
new lawn dress and it should be a better one than 
Alice Penhall’s. How strange are the misjudgements 
of jealousy! Alice had no thought of gaining the no- 
tice of George Penryn, or if she had, she was not aware 
of it and as for the dress, — an old resurrected lawn 
made over. 

“You shall have a new dress, too,” said her mother, 
in the midst of her labors. “What kind would you like 
to have?” 

“I think that a pink lawn would suit my complexion 
and — ” 

“Perhaps the dress that ’ou mentioned that Alice 
Penhall had was an old one made new,” meekly sug- 
gested Phillips, striving to stem the tide. 

“No, it isn’t; it is a new dress,” protested Belle. 

“Yes, you shall have a new dress and it shall be a 
better dress than the one Alice Penhall has. It shall 
be of lawn, — a pink lawn,” affirmed her mother. 

“And a pink hat to match,” said the girl. 

“And it shall be trimmed with lace, fine lace and in- 
sertion, and we will get five yards of ribbon for the 
neck and for a sash,” said her mother. 

“Oh, mother,” said the girl in an ecstacy of delight 
at the thought, “won’t it be grand, and I shall look a 
great deal better in it than Alice Penhall does in hers.” 

“I tell you — ” said Phillips. 

“We will get it this pay, too,” said her mother in- 


230 


BOSS TOM. 


terrupting Philip. Henrietta was as much enraptured 
over her daughter looking fine as Belle was herself. 

“I tell ’ou,” said Philip, a little out of humor and 
managing at length to get in a few words, “that there 
shall be no new dresses bought this pay, nor next pay 
neither.” 

Belle sulked a while and then withdrew from the 
table and began to cry in vexation. “You don’t want 
me to have nothing! You always want me to go 
a-a-around in my old, shabby dresses and to look 
worse than any other girl in the town.” 

“There, Philip, Pm surprised at you,” said Henri- 
etta ; “the poor girl must look a little respectable. 
There, you have made her cry.” 

“A little respectable !” exclaimed Philip, with an an- 
gry snort, “why ’ou know now, Henrietta, that she has 
more dresses than any other girl in the whole town. 
She has silk dresses and satin dresses and what not 
else. Respectable, humph ! she has more dresses now 
than she can wear. And as for them being shabby, 
they are just as good as any I ever saw in the town.” 

“Well, Philip, you know that the poor dear wants to 
look as nice as other girls, and if she is to ever get a 
young man she must dress as nice as the other girls 
dress. You know yourself, that when you used to 
come to see me, you used to like to see me dressed up 
well in a nice attractive gown — ” 

“Yes,” growled Philip, “I was a fool at that time or 
I should have known better.” 

“You can’t think of a single reason why the poor 
dear shouldn’t have a new dress,” went on Mrs. Phil- 
lips, in an argumentative tone. 

“A single reason !” thundered Philip. “Why there’s 
the strike, woman ” 

“Is no strike,” jerked out Belle between her sobs. 

“There’s one coming and I can tell ’ou it will be a 
hard one, and how are ’ou going to live through it 
without a dollar in the bank. ’Ou will have to live on 
’ur fine dresses then, and I can tell ’ou the living will 


BOSS TOM. 


231 


be mighty poor. They have already struck at the 
Meadow Mines and at the Lowland, and beat a police- 
man down there, and they say that the strike will be 
in the Mayoton Mines soon, for they intend to cause a 
strike over the whole region. We don’t have a dollar 
in the bank at the present time, and how we are going 
to live through it, I don’t know.” Henrietta and Belle 
too were a little sobered at this outbreak from Phil- 
lips, and the gravity of the situation was pressed home 
upon them. 

“Well, I suppose that I’ll have to be a little saving,” 
said Henrietta. 

“Yes,” said Philip, “if ’ou had done that right 
straight along, we would be better off now. I wish ’ou 
were a little more like Mrs. Penryn and that Belle was 
a little more like Alice Penhall. They’re careful and 
saving. I think that ’ou will find that that dress of 
Alice’s is an old one made over. Penryn has several 
hundred dollars in the bank, all through the saving of 
his wife. Belle will never get George if she isn’t more 
saving. He doesn’t want a fashion plate; he has too 
good an example of what a good wife should be from 
his mother at home.” 

Henrietta and Belle were thoroughly sobered. The 
bright dreams of dresses and finery vanished from their 
minds under this reproachful speech of. Philip, and the 
rebuke was more so since Philip had allowed them to 
get what they pleased heretofore. 

“Well, we will have to be more careful for the fu- 
ture and Belle will have to do without the dress. It is 
a little too late in the season, anyway, to have lawn,” 
and Henrietta kissed her Husband. Belle, though still 
a little sulky, dried her tears and finished her supper. 


232 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A PORCH ASSEMBLAGE AT BIG BILL SMITH’S. 

T HERE’S a breaker burning, Beatty,” said big 
Bill Smith to his sister Beatrice. Bill had been 
at work late that evening, repairing the engine, 
and had just finished his supper and was preparing to 
fill his pipe to have a comfortable smoke upon the 
front porch of his home. Big Bill, as he was commonly 
known, was, with the exception of Finn, the coal and 
iron policeman, the largest man working at the Mayo- 
ton Colliery. Finn and Big Bill were in some respects 
similar in their physical make-up. Both were strong 
men. Bill’s parents had come from the Lizard Point, 
Cornwall, England, but Bill, himself, had been born in 
the United States and was proud of the fact that he 
was an American citizen. But notwithstanding the 
country of his birth, Big Bill could not deny the coun- 
try of his ancestry. It was seen in the huge frame of 
the sturdy engineer. It was a noteworthy fact, that 
that section of the land of England is distinguished for 
the height and frame of its people, many of the women 
attaining to a height of six feet or over. Big Bill was 
six feet, two inches in his stockings, and measured 
forty-six inches around the chest, and tipped the beam 
at two hundred and fifteen pounds. Finn, though 
about the same height, was a trifle less in weight and 
chest measurement than the sturdy engineer. Bill 
scarcely knew his own strength and the people fre- 
quently had jokes at his expense in the matter. It was 
said of him at one time, that he had taken up in both 
hands a four hundred pound coil of wire-rope and had 
offered it to an employee of the breaker, telling him to 
run up into the breaker with it. The new man, not esti- 


BOSS TOM. 


233 


mating it to be as heavy as it was, from the easy man- 
ner in which Bill handled it, took the burden in his 
own arms, and upon Bill’s letting go, had fallen to the 
ground, burden and all. At another time when Bill 
had been working for Dolan, the breaker boss, a barrel 
of lubricating oil was needed at the breaker and Dolan 
had told the store superintendent that he would send 
one of the breaker boys over for it with a team. Bill 
went over for it with a sled and a mule. The clerk was 
having quite a difficult time getting the barrel on and 
had called for assistance. Bill, leaving the mule to 
stand by himself, approached the barrel. 

“Catch hold at that end,” said the clerk, but Bill, 
grasping the barrel at both ends, with apparently no 
effort at all, heaved it into the sled, much to the ad- 
miration of the bystanders. That was when Bill was 
young, that is to say, when he was under twenty years 
of age. Brame, the store superintendent, had said at 
that time that if that was one of Dolan’s boys, he 
should like to see one of his men. 

Bill was now about twenty-seven years of age and 
had been promoted, through the influence of Dolan, 
to the position of engineer, which he had held for quite 
a few years. His parents were both dead, and he and 
his sister, Beatrice, were keeping the old home place 
together. Bill had often said that if it were not for 
the comfortable home that Beatty, as he called her, 
made for him, he no doubt would have married long 
ago. Beatty was a model sister and a model cook also, 
and Bill was not going to exchange a good cook for 
a worse one, not if he knew it. There was some one 
else, however, that would have liked to have a cook like 
Bill’s sister, and that was Mike Clyde, the pumpman, 
who frequently came over to Bill’s home of evenings, 
ostensibly to talk over the topics of the day and sample 
Bill’s tobacco, but really to get a sight of Beatrice. 
Once, to Clyde’s intense delight, she had brought out 
a piece of pie, and it was apple pie at that, — and that 
had given Clyde a higher opinion of Beatrice than he 


234 


BOSS TOM. 


had ever had before. Clyde was now seen approach- 
ing as Bill called Beatrice’s attention to the glow in 
the east. 

“Beatty, there’s a breaker a burning,” said Bill, 
again, as he rose to get a better view of the flame in 
the distance. Beatty came out of the house at her 
brother’s exclamation. She was tall, and robust as 
well, and was the counterpart of her brother, rosy arid 
pleasant. 

“It’s a breaker, edn’t it, Bill?” asked old Dicky Cur- 
now, who lived next door to Bill and was likewise at- 
tracted by the lurid light. 

“It must be a breaker,” said Phillips, who having 
finished his supper and his lecture to Henrietta and 
Belle, was also viewing the sight. 

“It is a breaker,” said Bill, “or I don’t know a thing 
when I see it. It must be the Meadow Mine or the 
Lowland and that means that they strikers down there 
are going it pretty high. I hope that they won’t try 
to make us go on a strike too. We have many reasons 
why we ought to strike, but the people aren’t ready for 
it yet; they are too poor.” 

“Well, I ’opes that they won’t strike yet a bit,” said 
old Dicky, “for us can’t stand a strike now.” 

“How are you, Mike?” shouted Bill to Clyde, as the 
latter approached the gate, “come in and have a chair.” 
Mike entered and having saluted Beatrice and nodded 
to Curnow and Phillips, who were seated on their 
respective front porches, took the chair that Bill had 
offered him. 

“That’s a fire,” said Clyde to Bill. 

“A breaker,” said Bill between the puffs of his pipe. 
Beatrice brought out a chair for herself, much to her 
brother’s displeasure, and notwithstanding what her 
brother thought, began to knit vigorously on the heel 
of a stocking that Bill was supposed to wear the com- 
ing winter. Now Bill, though not objecting to smok- 
v.g when he was alone with his sister, did when there 
was company. With a finer sensibility than his big 


BOSS TOM. 


235 


self would warrant, he thought that it was derogatory 
to his sister to have her in the presence of smoking 
men. He didn’t like to offer Clyde a pipe in the pres- 
ence of his sister, nor did he feel like smoking without 
offering Clyde the customary courtesy, nor did he de- 
sire to forego his evening enjoyment. He thought that 
Beatty was needed in the kitchen, but since he had 
called her out to see the fire, he could not blame her 
for her presence. 

But Beatrice did not care to go within, for was not 
Clyde there, and he had been coming quite frequently 
to see Brother Bill of late, and he had praised her pie 
that she had given him the evening or so before. Clyde 
thought that Beatty’s face was a little red as she sat 
busily knitting, but then she was always noted for 
her red cheeks and her healthy, buxom appearance. 

Bill was in a dilemma and puffed on in silence, 
occasionally making a remark, and then again relaps- 
ing into silence. Clyde was not abashed at Bill’s si- 
lence. Beatrice’s appearance was welcome to him and 
he enjoyed watching her industrious movements. Mike 
Clyde was of an age nearly akin to that of Bill’s. He 
was, if the record spoke aright, a year or so older than 
Bill and had passed the period of life when one is ruled 
by love alone. He gazed more upon the practical side. 
What Mike wanted was a wife that was a good cook 
and a good all-around housekeeper, and he was con- 
strained to think, by his observation, that Beatrice filled 
the requirements to perfection. Then too, though that 
idea was the last to be thought of in his estimation, she 
was fairly good looking. He thought once that she was 
the human ideal of a red rose. But what would Bill 
say? Bill thought a great deal of his sister and had’ 
no prospects of marrying, so it seemed. It would be 
a cowardly thing to take Bill’s housekeeper away from 
him in that fashion. 

“Beatty,” said Bill at length, “are the dishes all 
washed?” 


236 


BOSS TOM. 


“Indeed, I forgot all about them/’ said Beatty and 
excusing herself, she hastened within, much to Clyde’s 
inward dismay. 

“One can never smoke when a woman is around,” 
said Bill, “and I knew that you were just aching for a 
smoke, Mike.” 

Clyde took the offered pipe and having filled it, and 
lighted it, sat back in apparent contentment. Old 
Dicky Curnow came over to join the company, as also 
did Phillips. The strike was still uppermost in Dicky’s 
mind. 

“It will be ’ard times for we, if they strikers make us 
strike. Us ’ad better arn summat, than nawthing at 
all.” 

“Yes,” said Phillips, concurring with Dicky’s state- 
ment. 

“Well,” said Bill, after a pause, “I don’t want any 
man to tell me when I shall stop work or when I shall 
begin, except the man that I’m working for. I’m an 
American citizen and want the right to quit work when 
I please and work for whom I please. The company 
don’t treat us right, but then I want to quit work of my 
own accord and no man from the outside shall tell me 
how or when to stop.” 

“If the men from the Lowland come over and try to 
make ’ou, what will ’ou do then?” said Phillips. 

“No man shall stop me from working, if I can help 
it,” stoutly asserted Bill. 

“Strikes are a hinjury to the country,” said Dicky. 

“Sometimes they are a benefit though,” said Red 
Jerry Andra, who had come up and leaning on the 
fence, joined in the conversation. “They doant treat 
the miner right ; they charge too much for the powder 
and rob him at the store ; they blow the whistle five 
minutes before seven o’clock in the morning to get a 
little extra time, and there are other grievances like 
the docking. Henny, the new docking boss, docked 
ten cars of O’Donnel’s the other day, and they had 
almost a fight over it at the breaker. I would ’ave ’ad 


BOSS TOM. 


237 


my rights if I had to knock his head off, then and 
there.” 

“How many did he dock him?” asked Clyde, 'who 
seemed a trifle absent minded. 

“He docked him ten cars out of sixty,” continued 
Andra, “for Jones, the timberman, was there and heard 
the whole affair and told me.” 

“Here comes O’Donnel, now,” said Phillips. The fig- 
ure of Pat O’Donnel, bony and tall, was seen approach- 
ing. 

“How are you, Pat?” 

“How are ye.” Pat slowly came up to the fence 
and leaned on the upper rail near Jerry Andra. 

“And how many cars did ye send out today, Jerry?” 

“Twenty-five cars, but one was docked by the boss 
for slate.” 

“ ’Ow many cars did ’ou send out, Pat?” It was Phil- 
lips that spoke. 

“Thirty caars.” 

“Any docked?” 

“No.” 

“I suppose that Henny is afraid to dock you now, 
Pat, since you gave him the racket some time ago,” 
said Bill. 

Pat’s face flushed. “They did dock me more than 
was fair, but he gave me some of thim back, pre- 
tinded that he had made a mistake.” 

“What was the trouble between you and him, the 
other day?” asked Big Bill. 

“It was that same thing. He had docked me tin caars 
out of sixty, and I gave him a piece of me moind on 
the subject; however I’m not going to spake anything 
about it,” and Pat continued smoking his short clay 
pipe. 

“Well,” said Ned Thomas, who had come up at this 
time, “John Jones told me about it and I thought it 
was a shame. That’s the worst thing in docking that 
ever was in the mine of Mayoton since I’m here, and 
I don’t blame you, Pat.” 


238 


BOSS TOM. 


“It’s no wonder that the people strikes/’ said O’Don- 
nel, “whin they oppress a man loike that. Strikes are 
sometimes necessary for the freedom of the working 
man.” 

“Yes, but us ’opes that that will be the last thing,” 
said old Dicky, in which thought Ned and Phillips si- 
lently concurred. 

Clyde was not taking much interest in the conversa- 
tion, but was smoking silently and meditating. At 
length he said : “Bill, I believe I’ll go around and get 
a drink of water from the well.” 

“Tell Beatty to give you a glass,” Bill said, and then 
continued in the conversation that was now in full 
blast. 

“I didn’t make out very well, this last month,” began 
old Dicky, “only sent out twenty-one cars.” 

“How’s that?” asked Red Jerry. 

“It’s a poor plaace to load. The vein doant pitch 
scarcely at aall, and us ’as got to shovel the coaal two 
or three times afore us can get un in the car.” 

“We’re beginning to draw out; the breast is about 
worked up. Penryn made a hundred and forty dollars 
this last month ; he’s drawing out, too,” said Jerry. 

“I don’t care if the strike does come for I drew out 
me last caars of coal today,” averred O’Donnel. 

“I never had such a breast in all my life as the one 
I have now; I didn’t make out at all this month; the 
breast has petered out,” said Ned Thomas. “It has 
become too narrow and small for a man to make any- 
thing except by the yard.” 

“You had better stayed with me, butty,” said Jerry, 
referring to the fact that Thomas had been a partner 
with him some time ago. 

“I wish I had,” said Ned, regretfully. 

“It ’pears to me,” said old Dicky, “that the cars are 
getting bigger and bigger every year, and us doant get 
any more pay fer them either, and then us ’as got to 
’eap them up so as they ’ave never been ’eaped afore. 
It edn’t right.” 


BOSS TOM. 


239 


“Gwynne thinks that it is just as easy to load a 
large car as it is a small one,” said Ned. 

“McCue dedn’t think that, but ’e was a good man 
and they turned un off ; I can tell ’ee too, that it edn’t 
so easy to load when one ’as a flat plaace like I ’ave, it’s 
back-breaking all the time. I doant think that it’s 
right to go on a making the cars larger and bigger, like 
they does.” ' 

The fire in the east was still glowing and painting 
the heavens brighter and brighter as the darkness 
came on apace. Occasionally there would be shoots 
of flame that would penetrate farther into the darkened 
heavens and then there would be a dying down of 
the fiery hues until nothing but a crimson glow re- 
mained, only to be succeeded by a heightening of 
flame as perhaps, as Bill expressed it, “some new part 
would catch fire.” Long did the group near Bill’s 
porch view the picture, painted by the infuriated wrath 
of strikers upon the expanse of heaven and to 
their eyes queer shapes and forms wrought themselves 
out of that fiery leaping mass, which the gathering 
darkness but enhanced. The porch assemblage was 
silenced for a time by the sight. There were fiery air 
ships, marching columns, armies of marching men in 
the lurid reflection, and then as some low-lying cloud 
would be illuminated with additional splendor, various 
ejaculations came from the watchers. 

“It’s like a furnace,” said O’Donnel. 

“Yes,” ventured Jerry. 

“The daay of judgment,” murmured Dicky, humbly. 

“The day of judgment for the operators,” asserted 
Jerry. 

“The men must be Bedlamites,” said Bill, “they are 
cutting off their noses to spite their faces ; what good 
will it do them to destroy the property? If their de- 
mands are granted tomorrow, they can’t work for 
many days by burning the breaker. It’s to their in- 
terests that the property is safe as much as it is to the 


240 


BOSS TOM. 


operators. That’s rank foolishness,” and Bill tapped 
out the ashes from his pipe rather a little sharply. 

Meantime Mike Clyde was busy, not at the well, but 
for a time at the kitchen window. In passing the win- 
dow he had seen Beatty, washing the dishes, and of 
course had to stop, as Bill had told him, to ask for a 
glass to get some water ; and even after the glass was 
given to him he had to linger to talk to Beatty, and the 
more he lingered the more did he desire to linger. His 
eyes, genial and smiling, took in the whole surround- 
ing of the kitchen in their comprehensive survey, and 
he marked with inward satisfaction the neatness and 
tastefulness of the interior. Seeing his disinclination to 
leave the window, Beatty filled the glass for him, and 
then suggested that perhaps a piece of apple pie would 
not be a bad accompaniment to the before mentioned 
beverage. Clyde was not a bit loathe to partake of the 
pie, and, to partake of it more to his satisfaction, en- 
tered the kitchen domain. 

“That’s good pie, Miss Beatrice,” said Clyde, be- 
tween his bites, his attention evenly divided between 
Beatty and the luscious baked affair that he was de- 
vouring; “and Bill is certainly lucky to have such a 
good cook and housekeeper as he has got.” 

Beatty kept on washing the dishes with greater vigor 
than ever, though there was a heightened pleased color 
in her face as she said that Brother Bill was pretty 
well satisfied, and of course, Clyde being Bill’s friend, 
and she being Bill’s sister, it “was just natural like that 
he should say so.” Clyde didn’t know whether the 
phrase “just natural for him to say so” was a modest 
depreciating of her own merits or whether it would 
be unnatural for him to say so, were he anything else 
than a friend of Bill. He, however, didn’t say much 
more, but kept on munching his pie and feasting his 
eyes on the buxom form of Beatty, as she bustled 
around the kitchen, setting things to rights, as she 
termed it. 

Mike, fearing that his protracted stay getting a drink 


BOSS TOM. 


241 


might elicit some disparaging remarks from Bill, arose 
to go and thanking Beatty for the pie, hurried around 
the corner, pausing for a moment at the window to 
catch a last lingering look at Beatty, who, pretending 
not to know that any one was watching her, still kept 
bustling around and in the midst of her work began 
to sing in a not unmelodious voice. “No wonder,” 
thought Mike Clyde, as his mouth still watered over 
the reflections of that pie and his genial eyes looked 
cannibalistically at the hustling form, — “no wonder 
that Bill is happy and contented with a cook and 
housekeeper like that, — I — I — would myself.” 




242 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE STRIKE. 

I F I can catch him I’ll kill him, cur and dog that he 
is l” 

The words were spoken by a red haired miner 
whose cheeks and protuberant chin were flushed to 
crimson, and whose grey-blue eyes were gleaming un- 
der the dual excitement of wrath and drink. There 
was a self assertive, positive tone in the man’s speech, 
tinged with suppressed passion, that made the listen- 
ers’ nerves creep. It was Red Jerry who in the 
drawing out of his coal had been docked twelve cars, 
and there was vengeance impending over the head of 
Henny. Jerry had been drinking slightly during the 
morning and it had not caused him to be any more 
moderate in his demeanor. It was Ned Thomas to 
whom he was speaking, and who was endeavoring to 
persuade him to be careful. 

“Careful ! Because he cheats other men, do you sup- 
pose that he can cheat me? I don’t mind one being 
docked, but a dozen cars that I had to labor to fill !” and 
the countenance of Jerry was typical of his name. The 
more Ned tried to dissuade him, the more his ire in- 
creased, and Ned was just thinking of telling Boss 
Tom, when full in front of them stepped Henny, the 
docking boss, coming from the slope mouth. He had 
not perceived them until he had almost brushed against 
them. Ned leaped forward to stop Jerry, but it was 
too late. With a muttered, muffled expression, Jerry 
confronted Henny. 

“Ye docked me twelve cars!” 

The exclamation was deep and sinister. The flushed 


BOSS TOM. 


243 


face, the vibrating passionate tones were a warning to 
Henny. 

“A mistake !” exclaimed Henny, and dodged to one 
side. 

But Henny was not quick enough, for with a roar 
like that of a wild beast, Jerry leaped at him. The 
concentrated passion of wrong, hate, and drink-in- 
flamed wrath was centered in one quick flash of a bony, 
toil-hardened hand. There was a cry and Henny went 
to the ground in a heap, and there was a mass of red, 
tangled hair and whirling limbs on top of him. Red 
Jerry had become a fiend incarnate; the fiery nature 
had burst forth like a volcano; the blood of Jerry was 
like molten lava. There was no separating those whirl- 
ing forms and from the mass at times would come 
passionate expressions, “A mistake ! liar ! thief ! 
fraud ! hell-hound ! blood sucker ! cur !” punctuated 
with resounding blows. 

“Help ! help !” shrieked the half murdered company’s 
creature. 

“Jerry! Jerry!” cried the pallid Ned, for he was 
afraid that murder would be committed. “J err y> don’t 
kill him ! Don’t strike a man when he’s down.” 

The last expression had the desired effect, for there 
was a pause, and then Jerry leaped to his feet, jerking 
the docking boss to his feet also. 

“No ! I’ll not strike a man when he’s down, and ye’ll 
’ave to stand up,” and with that the battle, or farce, as 
it might have been termed, for Henny was too dazed, 
stunned, helpless to defend himself, began anew, Hen- 
ny being knocked down only to be jerked to his feet, 
and knocked down again and again. Thomas was 
sick with apprehension and had about decided to 
interfere, much as he knew his inability to cope with 
Red Jerry, when there was a shout from the breaker 
and a great hulking form, flashing from the shadows 
into the sunlight, darted past him and two great arms 
with the force of a hoisting derrick grasped Jerry, 


244 


BOSS TOM. 


raised him aloft and shook him until his grasp was 
released. 

“In the name of heaven what are you at? Do you 
want to be a murderer and be hanged, Red Jerry?” 

It was Big Bill, the engineer, and the only man in 
Mayoton that could have done the like. Ned, in after 
time relating the story, would shudder at the passion 
of the drink-infuriated Jerry, and relate with admira- 
tion how Big Bill had lifted Jerry aloft as a boy does 
a kitten and shook loose his deadly grip upon the 
half dead docking boss. 

Red Jerry hardly knew who had him, for he strug- 
gled and then was silent for a moment as they all 
looked at the prostrate form of the stunned man, — a 
battered heap of bruised humanity, tattered, torn, 
gashed, and with swollen, blackened eyes. 

“In the name of common sense, what led you to do 
a thing like this?” asked Bill, as he viewed Jerry with 
horror and indignation. 

“He docked me twelve cars! Cheated, robbed me,” 
said Jerry with still some trace of passion and anger. 

“Yes, and he loses his job if he doesn’t dock; that’s 
what he’s paid for. It’s not his fault ; it’s Gwynne’s,” 
said Bill, as he kneeled down beside the prostrate man 
and felt his pulse. “He’s only stunned, but perhaps 
hurt worse, who knows?” 

“It’s Gwynne that is back of all the injustice,” said 
Ned, not thinking what effect his words would have. 

A crimson flush came across the drink-inflamed 
features of Jerry, and then with a muttered exclama- 
tion of “Gwynne, yes, you’re right and Gwynne shall 
answer for it,” he rushed off in the direction of the of- 
fices. 

“There, he’s off on another tear, but Gwynne can 
take care of himself and this man needs our attention. 
There, Ned, bring us that door and we can get some 
one to carry him home.” 

The door was taken from its hinges and two Hun- 
garians impressed into service of the hour, and, Dolan 


BOSS TOM. 


245 


taking charge of the affair, Bill returned into the en- 
gine room and Ned to his work in the mine. 

Owen Gwynne had been all the morning in the office 
working and consulting with his paymaster, Reeber. 
George Penryn had been given a day off, and had 
utilized the time in various ways. It was about ten 
o’clock in the morning when he passed the office in the 
company of Alice Penhall. Reeber, casting a glance out 
of the window, had remarked that he thought that that 
would be a match some day. Alice was a model girl, 
and George was as steady a young man as there was 
around the mines. Gwynne had nodded his head in a 
seemingly careless manner, but certain thoughts ran 
through his mind' which Reeber’s assertion had started. 
If that was the case, those twelve thousand pounds, 
which Tom was to receive, would never come into the 
possession of the Gwynne family. He must do some- 
thing to prevent the fulfillment of Reeber’s prognosti- 
cation. His son William came in at that time and he 
was glad of his presence. 

“Come into the private office, William, I want 
to see you.” 

William followed his father out of the pay office, 
across the little narrow hall-way and through the 
shipping-clerk’s department, into the office of his father 
beyond. Gwynne did not sit down, but leaned against 
the open brick fire-place, while his son took the office 
chair, near the large desk. 

“When is your vacation over, William?” 

“Day after tomorrow.” 

“Could you prolong it for a time?” 

“I suppose that I could, but I should miss some 
things at the opening.” 

“How would you like to work a month here for us, 
assisting the shipping-clerk. He is overburdened with 
work now, and needs some help. You could easily 
catch up in college matters.” 

William flushed with gratitude, for the one thing 
that he was regretting was the early commencement of 


246 


BOSS TOM. 


the college term, and his heart was in the town of 
Mayoton. 

‘‘I should be glad to take advantage of the offer.” 

“Well, that is settled, then. Now, there is another 
thing that I was thinking about. What is this thing that 
I hear about your frequenting Tom Penhall’s place? 
The talk is that Superintendent Gwynne’s son is trying 
to steal Tom’s daughter, and you know how I’m op- 
posed to your marrying a lady without any finance 
back of her. Tom’s daughter hasn’t a cent to her 
name, has she?” 

“I thought that it would come to this,” said the 
young man bitterly; “you don’t want me to marry 
where my heart lies. Alice Penhall is poor, or at least 
has no money to boast of, and yet she is a lady and 
is cultured and refined. I knew that you would not ap- 
prove of it, but I can’t help that. I can’t give her up 
unless she refuses me.” The young man’s face had the 
same hard, determined look that characterized his 
father’s at times. 

“Have you spoken to her about it ?” 

“No, not yet, but I mean to before I leave for col- 
lege.” 

“Has she given you any indication that your senti- 
ments would be reciprocated?” 

“No, I can’t say that she has, but she has always 
treated me kindly.” 

“And what about George Penryn, my timekeeper?” 

“I don’t know anything about him ; he seems like 
a nice fellow and is a friend of the family, but I don't 
think he has any more show than I have myself.” 

“And how does Tom and his wife appear toward 
you and Penryn?” 

“I think that Mr. Penhall thinks so much of his 
daughter that he would fire any young man that would 
even intimate his desire of taking her from him. Of 
course, he thinks that Penryn comes there to see him, 
and I, — I am just a caller upon the whole family.” 

“And Mrs. Penhall?” 


BOSS TOM. 


247 


“Well,” and the young man smiled, “I think in 
her case she favors me. The land is clear there, but I 
don’t care for either the father or mother, if the girl 
likes me.” 

“And I suppose that you don’t care if I don’t like 
it either,” said Gwynne, grimly. 

William said nothing to this telling shot from his 
father, but the set look that was upon his face was 
answer sufficient. 

“Well,” said Gwynne, as he surveyed his son for a 
moment, “I admire your grit and you have my per- 
mission to go ahead though you didn’t ask for it as 
you should have done.” Gwynne held up his hand for 
silence, for he saw that William was going to inter- 
rupt him, and then he continued: “You no doubt 
thought that it was strange that Tasked you to stay 
home longer than the extent of your vacation. I could 
have secured some one else to assist the shipping-clerk 
for that matter, but I want you to have your chance 
with Tom’s daughter, which chance you certainly 
won’t have if you go off to college now. Tom is not a 
poor man by any means. He is worth, or will be 
worth, in a short time, the sum of sixty thousand dol- 
lars, or possibly a hundred thousand dollars, or even 
more, and Alice is the only child, and Tom is getting 
old. I know from good sources that Tom has given 
the bulk of his fortune by will to his daughter. Do 
you see? If you marry her, with the little capital we 
already have, we could go into independent ventures 
instead of being hirelings of others as we have been. 
Go ahead and make hay while the sun shines.” 

“I don’t desire to marry her for her money.” 

“Well, marry her for love, or for anything else that 
you want. The money will come along with it. You 
can go now.” 

William was elated. The thing that he most feared, 
— the opposition of his father, — was now a thing of the 
past and he had no doubt of his success. 

Not so his father, however. Seated in his private of- 


248 


BOSS TOM. 


fice, he thought of the matter. The chief opposition 
to William was George Penryn. Tom liked George 
for his sterling qualities. If George was out of the 
way, or at least in disfavor with Tom, that would set- 
tle the matter. The girl was the counterpart of Tom, 
and any one out of favor with Tom — he broke off his 
meditations and looked at his watch. It was time to 
look over the books of the office according to his cus- 
tom. He had investigated the books of the company 
store and the post office, and today was the time to 
attend to the accounts of the office. He left his station 
by the brick fire-place and passed out of the private of- 
fice, through the shipping-clerk’s department, where 
he paused for a moment to give a few directions to 
the incumbent of that office, and then through the hall 
into the main office. 

The company offices at Mayoton were in a small, 
narrow, one-story building of some extent in length, 
and situated opposite the company store. It had for- 
merly been divided in the center into two lengthy 
rooms by the hallway; a year or so after it was built 
the apartment toward the store was again divided to 
make room for the shipping-clerk. The long apart- 
ment west of the hallway was utilized for the main 
office and paymaster’s department. A long oaken table 
ran half way down the center and was continued from 
there down to the pay window by a high desk at which 
a few clerks were accustomed to labor. The apart- 
ment was vacant, save for the presence of Reeber, who 
was busily engaged at some accounts. The paymaster 
assisted his chief in his work of examination. All the 
work was gone over assiduously, and the timekeeper’s 
books were considered. It was not Gwynne’s custom 
to review the books of any employe without that per- 
son being there to assist. 

“Oh, it doesn’t’ matter whether he is here or not,” 
Reeber said, in reference to George’s absence. “We 
can look over them anyway. I doubt, though, whether 
there is a single error, for he is the most accurate man 


BOSS TOM. 


249 


that we have had for the last three years in that de- 
partment.” 

“Writes a plain hand,” said Gwynne, as they went 
over the books. 

“Yes — a clear hand.” 

“Hold on ! What’s this?” They had come to an item 
very late in the month’s report. “If I mistake not 
there’s an error there. I saw Pat Develry this morning 
and he said that the men worked only eight hours last 
night and here he has given them ten hours apiece and 
that is an error that means a loss to the company.” 

“Perhaps it was a mistake.” 

“If it was a mistake, we can overlook it, perhaps. 
Here he comes now and we will ask him how he man- 
aged to give the men two hours extra.” 

George entered the office to secure something he had 
forgotten the evening before. 

“George, you have made a mistake here; you have 
given the stripping men, under Pat Develry last night, 
two hours more than they ought to have received. Was 
it a mistake?” 

Now, George had endeavored to give back to the 
men the hours of which they had been cheated some 
time before. Asked thus plainly whether it was a mis- 
take or no, he could not but answer in the negative and 
did so. An ugly look came upon the countenance of 
Gwynne. 

“You admit that you have cheated the company?” 

“No, sir, I do not admit that I have cheated the com- 
pany. I was only endeavoring to — ” 

“You gave the men two hours extra intentionally?” 

“I did, but—”* 

“That will do. Mr. Reeber, you can give this young 
man his wages and he needn’t come back to the office.” 

It had come at last — his discharge. Gwynne turned 
his back upon him and walked into the shipping-clerk’s 
room. “I am sorry for you, George,” was all that 
Reeber said as he handed him his pay, There was an 
element of coldness in his tone that George could not 


250 


BOSS TOM. 


well avoid noticing, George took the money and went 
home with a load upon his heart that he could scarcely 
bear. He felt that they both knew the whole affair, 
and it needed no explanation. Gwynne knew that he 
was honest and that he had but intended to give the 
men that of which they had been unrighteously de- 
prived — and Reeber must have known it, too. He did 
right, he thought, in not offering any words of explana- 
tion ; they were determined to discharge him because 
he was too honest. He said nothing to any one about 
his discharge and, it being his day off, no one remarked 
his presence away from the office. 

Gwynne thought, as he entered the private office, he 
had made a good stroke of fortune. That would set- 
tle that aspiring youth so far as Tom Penhall was con- 
cerned. There was a ring upon the telephone and 
Gwynne went to answer it. “Hallo! How’s that? The 
strikers coming? When will they be here? All right.” 

There was a rap upon the office door. “Come in,” 
said Gywnne. It was Tom Penhall. “Ah, Tom, the 
very man that I want to see ; come in. There’s going to 
be trouble, I fear, for I just heard on the ’phone that the 
Meadow and Lowland strikers are on the march to 
shut down the mine here. They shut one colliery down 
already and compelled the men to march along with 
them. Do what you can, Tom, to keep the men at 
work. The men all like you and will do most anything 
for you. Try and prevent trouble.” 

“Is George here?” asked the boss. 

There was a look of displeasure on the face of the 
superintendent, as the name of George was mentioned. 

“Don’t mention him at all ; George Penryn is not em- 
ployed in the office any more. I would be glad for 
your sake, Tom, to keep him in the office and give 
him a chance to rise, but when an employe proves 
dishonest and a positive injury to the men among 
whom he works, he must be discharged.” 

The old boss’ countenance was a picture of amaze- 
ment and doubt. “What ! what ! George dishonest ! It 


BOSS TOM. 


251 


can’t be possible ! There’s some mistake, Mr. Gwynne. 
There must be some mistake. The lad is too honest to 
do anything wrong. E ’as ’ad too good a training 
to prove unfaithful. ’Ee do ’im wrong, Mr. Gwynne.” 
The old boss shook his head, expressing his firm belief 
in his protege’s honest character. 

“He cheated the company designedly in favor of the 
men. If it was a mistake I would have been glad to 
overlook it, but he admitted it before Mr. Reeber and 
myself, and said that he had done it intentionally, 
and, of course, we can’t excuse a thing like that.” 

Tom sank into a chair, as if 1 dazed. He had loved 
George as a father, and he had tried to inculcate good 
principles within him in the period of his teaching. 

“I knew that you took an interest in the fellow, in 
fact, that was one of the reasons that I gave him the 
position of timekeeper, and so I thought that I would 
give him a chance to explain to us, but he brazenly ad- 
mitted his dishonest intentions. I supposed he allowed 
his biased sympathies for the'men to pervert his good 
judgment. I will call Reeber over and you can hear 
what he says.” Gwynne called Reeber from the hall 
doorway and that worthy came over from the office 
beyond. 

“Mr. Reeber, I was just telling Tom, here, about that 
affair of George Penryn. Tell him about it.” 

“He gave the men of Develry’s crew two hours 
apiece more than they were entitled to have. They 
worked eight hours and he gave them ten hours. We 
thought it was a mistake, but when he came in here, 
and we asked him about it, he said he had given them 
the hours intentionally.” Reeber gave his statement 
in a simple matter-of-fact tone. 

“And I have no doubt that if he cheated once he 
cheated twice, and perhaps oftener,” added the super- 
intendent. 

The answer was enough for Tom. The testimony 
was so strong and incontestable that he could not help 
but believe it. 


BOSS TOM. 


“I never could ’ave believed it. Who could ’ave 
thought that the lad would 'ave done such a thing?” 
and Tom shook his head in sorrow. There was a 
pained, drawn expression upon his face that was a re- 
flection of what was going on beneath the surface. 

“Well,” said Gwynne, dismissing the\ subject, “I am 
glad you have come in, Tom, for those strikers are 
coming over here today, so they say. If they do come, 
I want you to do the best that you can for the 
protection of the property and keep the men at work 
if it can be done at all.” 

Tom signified that he would do the best that he 
could, and withdrew. 

Gwynne still worked on for a time and then, leaving 
affairs in the hands of Reeber, started home. He had 
just got into the buggy when, passionate, flushed with 
anger and drink, his eyes gleaming like polished steel, 
and his hair like a bloody aureole around his head, 
Red Jerry hatless and fresh from his morning fray, his 
nerves tingling with the sense of former conquest, 
approached. With clenched fist, threateningly raised, 
he menaced the oppressor of Mayoton. 

“Ah ! I have found you, liar, cheat, and fraud. I have 
licked the tool, and now I want to lick the master. 
Who cheats the poor men? Who robs the miner and 
’is family? Who is the cause of all the tyranny at 
Mayoton? Who, if it edn’t Gwynne. Come down out 
of yer kerridge for five minutes and I’ll prove it to the 
satisfaction of all. Ah ! ye needn’t pucker up your 
ugly eyes and look mad ; come down and damme ! if I 
don’t make that face a picter fer a rogue’s gallery ! 
Cheat! robber! thief! dog!” 

Jerry was becoming more excited but was cut short 
by the action of Gwynne. It was a case of Greek 
meeting Greek. The frown was blackening and deep- 
ening upon the face of the superintendent. With a 
swift motion, he wrenched the whip out of the socket 
and aimed a cut at Jerry with all the power of his arm. 
The horse, a mettled, nervy animal, heard the swish 


BOSS TOM. 


253 


and with a leap, mad with terrified apprehension, tore 
down the road at a break-neck speed. The whip fell 
and there was a scream of pain and wrath, but not 
from Red Jerry. The action of the horse carried the 
rig beyond the intended mark and the blow fell, the 
whip encircling the head and shoulders of Tony Luc- 
caque, the Italian driver, who was standing near by. 
With an expression of wrath, Tony howled, and leap- 
ing forward, threw a great stone after the rapidly re- 
treating rig. Jerry contented himself with shaking 
his fist after the disappearing rig, and then rambled off 
swearing to himself in his disappointment. 

An excited crowd gathered around Tony, the idol 
of the Italian element. The word soon got to the mines 
and but for the intercession of old Tom, the Italian 
force at Mayoton would have taken a holiday. As it 
was, some threw down their tools and left, and the 
others were but half-hearted in their services. 

“Gwynne has done more to make a strike by this 
last act of his than by all the others,” said Tom to 
Dolan. 

Meantime, Reeber worked on in the pay-office for 
an hour or so, and then went to answer a call upon the 
"phone. It was in reference to the coming of the strik- 
ers from the Lowland and Meadow mines. They had 
been stopped from passing through the neighboring 
city by a force of police and constables but they had 
managed to take a roundabout way and emerged 
again upon the public road beyond, and were now 
in full march for the town of Mayoton. 

“Are there any Americans ?” asked Reeber, and the 
answer came, that, though there were some Americans 
among the number, the majority were foreigners and 
were led apparently by foreigners. Reeber made some 
calculations and thought that they would arrive pos- 
sibly by half past one in the afternoon. He gazed up 
at the clock and finding it after one, he hastily closed 
the ledgers and locked the safe, secured all desks, put 


254 


BOSS TOM. 


up the shutters, and departed, locking the office door 
behind him. 

There is always an unsettled, uneasy feeling when 
something momentous is expected. There is a timid 
apprehension shown by the women and feelings run 
riot. The more masculine of a community shake off the 
fear with words and a brave show of indifference which 
they rarely feel. The girls are filled with vague alarm 
and yet with mingled curiosity. Perhaps the bravest 
are the boys, the wild, young Arabs, who are glad to 
take a holiday on any occasion and anything out of the 
ordinary is as good as a circus to them. There was a 
vague feeling in the town of Mayoton. Ever since the 
morning there had been rumors of the coming mob, 
and various conjectures were made concerning them. 
Some in dread, feared they would burn the houses and 
wreck the whole town. Some feared a pitched battle, 
and already visions of ghastly wounds, cut heads, hurt- 
ling rocks and flying clubs assailed the imagination 
of the timid. Others laughed and treated the whole 
affair as a joke. Nothing would come of it. And so it 
was that the half of Mayoton was out that bright day 
of September, watching with varied feelings for the 
approach of the crowd. The record of that march and 
attack has gone down in the annals of Mayoton and 
will never be forgotten by the inhabitants. Telephone 
poles were hatted with ambitious lads, anxious to catch 
the first glimpse of the approach of the van, while 
around the foot they were booted with leaning, older 
parties. The pine trees were animated with eager 
lads, livelier fruit than they were accustomed to bear, 
and their branches groaned and protested against the 
strain. The common and road-side were checkered 
with caps and sun bonnets. School ! there was no 
school that day. It would have been impossible. There 
was too strenuous life and expectation in each youngs- 
ter’s breast. The truant officer would have had a 
month’s labor to accomplish in a single afternoon had 


BOSS TOM. 


255 


he tried to perform his duty, and so he wisely let it 
alone. 

“There they are !” screamed a youngster, perched on 
the top of a lofty telegraph pole. He was pointing ex- 
citedly to a cloud of dust in the distance. But it was a 
false alarm from the youthful whaler of the crow’s 
nest. It was only the first cortege of buggies, horse- 
men and bicyclers that had come over from the neigh- 
boring city to witness the fun, as they alleged ; and as 
the time dragged with slow steps, more and more 
came. On horseback, in vehicles, on bicycles, and on 
foot, still they came — boys, men, women, girls and even 
dogs. 

Meantime the breaker was still working, the steam 
shovels were still “choughing, choughing,” and rooting, 
the engines were still groaning, the ropes and drums 
creaking, and cars rattling up and down the slopes 
and planes as if nothing out of the ordinary was in pro- 
gress. At the stripping works, Pat Develry was im- 
proving his choice vocabulary of strenuous, work-in- 
spiring words, in which he expressed certain wishes 
condemnatory to the limbs, optical organs, souls and 
spirits of foreigners and kicking mules. Notwithstand- 
ing his efforts, there was but a half-hearted service 
from Pat’s workmen. Their attention was half divided 
between their work and the coming of the mob. They 
were in a dilemma. On the one hand, they did not dare 
to leave, for Boss Pat had consigned them to the hot 
place, so frequently heard of before from the boss’ 
lips with the additional threat that if they should leave 
they could not get their positions back ; and then on 
the other hand, they were in mortal terror of their 
countrymen, who were the leaders of the mob. The 
Americans and English and others worked on steadily, 
saying little, but thinking a great deal. And so the work 
went on— the blasting, loading, tugging, and straining, 
while on the highway the sightseers and others 
watched, and the crowds grew. There were jokes and 


256 


BOSS TOM.. 


laughter and among some of the townspeople inward 
qualms. 

“They are coming!” piped a lad’s voice from the top 
of a tree, far up the road. 

“There they are!” screamed another. 

People craned their necks. Far off a greater cloud 
of dust than ordinary, rolled and tossed, arose and fell, 
like the smoke of battle, coming nearer and nearer, 
and then came the hoarse murmur of many voices like 
the distant low murmur of’ the tide in cliff caves. 
Nearer and nearer came the roll of dust and murmur 
of voices and tramp of feet, until finally, forth from it, 
stalked a man of large proportions with the flat face of 
the Slav, and bearing aloft a huge pole from the top 
of which flapped, limply and forlornly, a soiled red- 
bandanna kerchief. Then four miners, marching 
abreast, then another four, and another four, and then 
a heterogeneous mass that paid no attention to the 
regular marching of the leaders, emerged and passed. 
There were Hungarian faces, American, Irish and 
others. Some of the sturdy fellows were clad in clean 
clothes; others, in inky mining garments, as if just 
coming from labor ; some carried clubs ; others, simply 
their dinner buckets. There was a variety of feelings 
expressed on the passing countenances. Some were 
laughing and joking, as if upon a summer picnic ; 
some were sober and stern looking; others scowling 
as if anticipating opposition. 

As if by a preconceived plan, as soon as they reached 
the mule stables, part of the crowd swept down upon 
the stripping on one side, and another part into the 
works on the other side. A motley crowd rushed down 
into Number One slope; another into Number Two, 
and still another into the engine house and breaker. 
There were yells, and the whistling of flying rocks, 
flung from strong hands at reluctant workmen. The 
awe-inspiring spectacle was too much for the workmen 
of Develry, and though he swore, and fumed, and 
cursed, and stamped, they fled like a whirl-wind, up 


BOSS TOM. 


257 


and out of the works like a pack of sheep. The mules, 
as if appreciating the era of freedom, kicked themselves 
loose from the hateful cars, and galloped riotously 
away, switching their leathery flanks with their ropey 
tails, and kicking up their heels as if the year of jubilee 
had come. 

“Strike ! Strike ! Stop work — no work !” was 
shouted in a babel of tongues. 

The whole mine seemed to swarm with them, like 
ants in an ant-hill. Down below in the gangways, 
breasts, slopes, in the stripping, in the breaker, and out, 
swarmed the horde of human locusts. In some sec- 
tions, the very zeal of the mob defeated its purpose. 
A Hungarian, battered and wounded, sought refuge 
in the powder house of the stripping, and a perfect 
fusillade of stones and clubs crashed down upon its 
roof. Several times did the fear-crazed man attempt 
to gain the ranks of the strikers, but had to seek refuge 
in the house from which he had come. 

In half an hour all the works were shut down. 
The steam shovels ceased rooting, the engines stopped 
choughing and hissing, the great drums and wheels 
were silent and lifeless, and the throbbing noise of 
machine activity was affrighted into death by the ap- 
palling terror and violence. There was a babel of feel- 
ings among Mayoton’s men. The Hungarians laughed 
and joked, or looked scared ; the Italians were jubilant, 
for they had desired to quit since the striking of Tony 
by the “Big Boss;” the English speaking miners were 
silent. Some were glad ; some were indifferent ; 
others were angry. Among the latter was big Bill 
Smith. There had been quite an exciting time in the 
engine room. While he was engaged in hoisting a car 
out of the slope, a strange Italian of goodly proportions 
came into the engine room and shouted what sounded 
to Bill like “Straghk — noa work,” and made motions 
to Bill to stop the engine. Bill, thinking it worthless to 
stop the engine before the car was out of the slope, 
gave no heed to the command, and the latter struck 


258 


BOSS TOM. 


him with a club. The car was up the next minute, 
and Bill, stopping the engine, turned upon his 
tormentor, who fled before his anger. Burning 
with resentment to think, as he said, “that a dirty 
foreigner had struck him,” he was after him as 
fast as he could move his great frame, and though 
the Italian was fleet, the rage of Bill made him speedier 
and he caught him by the neck at the slope mouth. 
With one hand almost choking the life out of him, and 
with the other grasping his nether quarters, he whirled 
the startled foreigner up over his head, and would have 
cast him headlong down the slope, had not others in- 
terfered. It would have fared ill with the others had 
they not been Boss Tom, Dolan, Jimmy O’Donnel, and 
Clyde. 

“I am an American citizen, and I’ll allow no 
dirty Hunk or Hike to stop or strike me,” Bill had ex- 
claimed, while his eyes flashed and his great red neck 
and face flushed still more crimson in his indignation. 
A great crowd of strikers surrounded Bill and his 
friends. 

“Now, Bill, go home,” Boss Tom had said ; “there’ll 
be no work here today; there can’t be, for I’m not 
going to see men hurt and property destroyed. ’Ere, 
Clyde, you and Sandy see Bill home.” 

Jimmy and George followed them as they moved 
on a few steps. 

“I can go alone ; you needn’t go along,” he had said, 
and then as quickly turned again saying that he was an 
American citizen, would have his rights, and would 
remain where he was. 

“Beatrice will be worried about you, Bill,” George 
said, and Bill deliberated for a moment. “I’m just as 
willing to strike for my rights as any, but I won’t have 
any dirty Hunk or Hike strike me and compel me.” 

“Him no work !” shouted the crowd of foreigners, 
and they drew near in a threatening manner. “Get out 
of here!” 


BOSS TOM. 


259 


“Go home, Bill; will ’ee, we doant want a riot,” said 
old Tom. 

“We don’t want to work!” shouted Gallagher to the 
threatening crowd. 

“Let go of me, Clyde, and we’ll soon see who will get 
out of here. Let go of me, I say!” said Bill to Clyde, 
who was holding him. Bill would have precipitated a 
riot then and there. There were a number of men 
standing near by who would have fought with Bill 
anywhere against the odds of a mob, for he was dear to 
the men of Mayoton. What might have been a for- 
midable affair, terminated peaceably enough, however, 
for the Hungarian leader of the foreign striking ele- 
ment approached and drew his men off to another 
place. George and Jimmy wanted to see Bill home, 
but that worthy stoutly asserted that he would go 
alone. 

“Let him go, boys ; he is big enough to take care of 
himself,” said Clyde. And so Bill went home, but 
notwithstanding the words of Clyde, George and Jim- 
my followed him at a distance. 


260 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ORGANIZING. 

T HE foreigners and striking miners, from the Mea- 
dow and Lowland mines, having accomplished 
their work in shutting down the mine of Mayo- 
ton, sat down upon the culm banks and around the 
works, eating their dinners that they had brought 
along with them. They were tired and soiled after 
that march of nearly fourteen miles. Some were 
laughing like school boys, while others were morose 
and silent. A great mass meeting was held by the 
foreigners near one of the refuse coal banks, while a 
similar one of the English speaking element was in 
progress near the schoolhouse steps. Though not 
willing to strike at the first, a great majority seemed 
disposed to make these circumstances a chance for the 
redress of their grievances, and resolved to organize 
and remain firm. 

Jimmy O’Donnel was elected chairman of the meet- 
ing, and George Penryn was appointed secretary. 
There was a great hubbub and the jangling voices of 
altercating parties until the chairman drew order out 
of chaos. The question was, should they join the strike 
begun by the outside miners, or should they go back to 
work? Should they make use of the present circum- 
stances to gain some relief from the things of which 
they were complaining or not? The meeting was a 
stormy one at the first, as there were some in favor of 
one thing, and some of another, and there were many 
speeches of an exceedingly violent nature, especially 
from the outside miners. Some remarks were of such 
an incendiary kind as to disgust the more conservative, 
while others were more moderate. Nothing would 


BOSS TOM. 


261 


have been accomplished had it not been for the coming 
of labor organizers from the striking sections. A bug- 
gy arrived with two occupants. 

“Reese ! Reese ! Reese !”. shouted several men. 

“Mr. Chairman/’ said George Penryn, “there is with 
us here, the district deputy of the Miners’ Organiza- 
tion. He has the interest of the miners at heart, and 
knows what is best for their welfare. I suggest that 
we hear from him, and give him the floor.” 

There were calls of “Reese, Reese !” and then the dis- 
trict deputy arose. He was a man of the ordinary 
size, and from the appearance of his hands and coun- 
tenance, was a hard working miner. But there was that 
in his face and demeanor that placed him above the 
ordinary mining class. 

“Mr. Chairman, and fellow workmen, the history 
of the human race has been a history of the oppression 
of the poor, and the revolt of the poor against that 
tyranny. Today, the struggle is for wealth, and the 
more a man has, the more he wants to have ; and he is 
perfectly right in increasing his wealth if he does it by 
his own labor, and not by stealing his increase out of 
the pockets of the poor man. But that is what em- 
ployers have been doing for quite a time. Now, years 
ago, there was not much chance of a poor man gaining 
much redress, because he was ill informed, and the 
power of the rich man was too great for the individual 
poor man, but now we have arrived at different times. 
The poor man is wiser than he was, and has the wea- 
pon within his grasp with which to accomplish his de- 
sires. It is only by the combination of small strands, 
that the mighty ropes are made which support suspen- 
sion bridges, and it is only by the combination of indi- 
vidual miners against the operator that strength is 
acquired to resist and conquer. For that special pur- 
pose the Miners’ Organization was perfected in other 
sections, and it has done wonders for the mining class. 
Now, I have come into this section for the special pur- 
pose of organizing the miners into this compact body 


262 


BOSS TOM. 


for the better purpose of resisting the tyrannical ag- 
gression of the operators, and securing to the miners 
their rights and privileges ; and finding that you have 
already gone upon strike at the solicitation of your 
fellow workmen, I desire to impress upon you that you 
can’t accomplish anything unless you become organ- 
ized. It is the most foolish thing in the world for the 
miners of an individual colliery to go upon a strike, 
unless they are organized into a compact body with 
their fellow workmen from other collieries. 

“You have grievances of which you complain, and 
they ought to be removed, — yes, they must be removed 
or you will be crushed still farther down into the mire. 
You are oppressed by the company store system, by 
the docking system, and by the cutting of wages, when 
there is no earthly reason why they should be cut. I 
tell you, men, that you are getting robbed, and you do 
not know it, at least, to the extent to which it is car- 
ried. Talk about slavery before the war! The exist- 
ence of the slave was a paradise to the life of the miner 
in these times, and yet, I am told that some of you 
don’t want to go upon a strike, do not want to ask for a 
redress of these grievances. They cheat you in every 
way conceivable and you earn a mere pittance, suf- 
ficient to keep soul and body together, and will you, 
like cowardly dogs, lick the hand that beats you, and 
the foot that spurns you? If the operators were mak- 
ing out poor themselves, and the mines of the region 
were not paying, there might be some shadow for a 
continuance of work, some reason, but the exact oppo- 
site is the case. I am told by an employee of this com- 
pany, and one who ought to know, that the profits of 
this colliery this last month was sixty-six thousand 
dollars, ten thousand dollars of an increase upon the 
profits of the month preceding. Where was that in- 
crease taken from? Why, from the pockets of the 
miners of Mayoton. Your children had to go hungrier 
and shabbier for that profit. Your pocket-book was 
emptier; you were cut down in your wages to make 


BOSS TOM. 


263 


the increase possible. And what was it done for? In 
order that the operator might roll in more wealth, that 
he might heap up for himself new pleasures at the ex- 
pense of the poor working man. In order that he 
might buy more steam yachts, and build new and pal- 
atial stables for his trotting horses. Yes, my fellow 
workmen, I have seen the operator’s stables, where he 
keeps his fine horses, and they are palaces in compari- 
son to the poor man’s home. Yes, the horse of an 
operator must have a more comfortable dwelling-place 
than the man who works for him and makes his wealth 
a possible fact. 

“Yes, but some say, we are governed by the sliding 
scale in our wages. The price of coal has gone up at 
tide-water, three months ago, and have the wages of 
the working man gone up with it as they should have 
done? No! But on the contrary, I am told here, that 
you have received a cut in your wages of ten per cent. 
What justifies that cut ip your wages? Poor times 
and the price of coal? No! No! Nothing but the ava- 
ricious grasping of the insatiable, blood-sucking oper- 
ators, your employers. A man does not deserve the 
name of man, if he does not resist tyranny like this. 
They are ready to tell you of a decrease in the price of 
coal, but they never tell you when the price has 
arisen. Oh, no, you are left to find that out for 
yourselves.” 

Reese paused for a moment to gain his breath, for 
he had been speaking rapidly, and passionately, and 
there was a low murmur of anger among the crowd 
that was listening to his burning words, and especially 
at the revelation that the profits of the company had 
been increased ten thousand dollars in the last month ; 
that the price of coal had gone up at tide-water, and 
they had received a cut in their wages of ten per cent, 
instead of a raise. 

“To h with the operators, and Gwynne !” 

shouted some one, in a hoarse voice, in the rear, and 
the exclamation was taken up by others. 


264 


BOSS TOM. 


Reese waved his hand and continued his speech, 
making every remark tell upon that excited, deter- 
mined audience. Toward the close, they gave re- 
doubled attention. 

“You are entitled to a raise, and the only way to 
gain it is to strike for it, and to come out in a body. 
But you can’t do this unless you join the Miner’s Na- 
tional Organization.” 

“Why?” shouted a voice. 

“Why? I am glad that you asked that question, and 
I can give you a most effective answer. Why is it that 
the operators don’t want their employes to join the 
National Organization? It is because they realize their 
inability to cope with a strong body like it, and because 
they can successfully cope with individual strikes. 
Strike now, without joining the Organization, and you 
will be marked men by the coal companies. Do you 
know what it is to be a marked man? It means that 
you can’t get a job in the whole hard-coal region. The 
operators are all organized and have strike leaders 
spotted. A man that is a good man in the coal com- 
panies’ estimation, is a man who will work and say 
nothing, no matter how he is oppressed. Let him once 
ask for a redress of grievances, and he becomes a 
troublesome fellow, and one to be got rid of as soon as 
possible. Without the Organization this is possible, 
but with the Organization, this is not possible, for the 
Organization sticks by a man if he is in the right and 
supports him. A marked man, before our Organiza- 
tion became a power, would go to another colliery to 
secure work because he couldn’t secure work at home. 
How long would he remain in the position he would 
secure elsewhere? Only as long as it would take to 
get news from other companies, and then he would 
receive his walking papers, with no information except 
that he was not wanted. Strike, men ! Join the Or- 
ganization, and make this strike effective, and show 
these bloodthirsty tyrants that you have a power back 
of you that can make itself felt for the right.” 


BOSS TOM. 


265 


The labor agitator sat down with a round of cheers 
from nearly all the men present. 

The second labor agitator leaped to his feet at the 
conclusion of Reese’s speech, and even before the 
cheering had ceased, had gained the Chairman’s rec- 
ognition, and was essaying to be heard above the din. 
When the confusion had ceased, he could be heard 
speaking in an impassioned manner, and emphasizing 
the remarks of the former speaker. 

“Boys, they give you turkeys on Christmas and 
Thanksgiving Day and pay nurses to nurse your chil- 
dren when they are sick, — then they lower your wages 
and increase the price of goods in the company store, 
to make up for it. You pay for it all, the turkeys and 
the nurses, you pay for. Let them give you fair wages, 
and you can buy your own turkeys and hire your own 
nurses. You don’t ask for charity. You are not beggars. 
You don’t want gifts and favors. All that you want is 
justice and fair wages, and the only way to gain that 
is to strike and join the Organization.” 

There were more murmurs of approval at the ter- 
mination of this speech, and there were several men 
upon their feet, but George Penryn was the first one 
to be heard, and showed by the speech that he deliv- 
ered that he had profited by the study of rhetoric and 
kindred studies. 

“Men, it is needless for me to add anything to the 
speech that we already have heard, and in fact your 
own thoughts are sufficient to convince you, even the 
most reluctant, that we have been ill treated, and 
robbed, and been bound down in a slavery infinitely 
worse than the bondage of the olden times. The com- 
pany and operators, in general, are morally robbers, 
though not legally so. Let me enumerate some of the 
offenses of which we are complaining, and see if we 
can afford to bear them any longer. 

“The company charges us too much for powder, and 
we all know what powder is to a working man, — the 
miner. Against an ordinary profit, no man of reason- 


266 


BOSS TOM. 


able judgment could take offense. A man must have 
profit in his business or he cannot succeed. We do not 
object to that, but when it comes to making one hun- 
dred, yes, two hundred per cent, on a keg of powder, 
that is sold to a poor miner, it no longer becomes profit, 
it is highway robbery. This thing is a grievance that 
must be removed. Then there is the iniquitous com- 
pany store system that has well been called a ‘pluck-me 
store.’ How they have doubled and trebled prices that 
at one time were fair, you are well aware. Some of the 
articles they sell at an advance of over a hundred per 
cent, more than an honest store would make. A fellow 
showed me a hat that he had purchased at our store 
for the sum of one dollar, and the same hat could be 
bought in any of the neighboring city stores for fifty 
cents. The increase in price would not be so evil if we 
were allowed to buy where we pleased, but that is not 
the case. You know, men, as well as I do, that unless 
a man buys enough out of the company store, he can- 
not retain his job long. How long was it since Moore, 
the assistant superintendent, was around to see you or 
your wife about your not buying enough out of the 
store, with the threat that if things didn’t mend in the 
buying line, you would be out of your position?” 

There was a pause for a moment and there was an 
angry murmur of approval from the crowd. 

“Then what have you to say in reference to the dock- 
ing system, that is in vogue here at the present time? 
Have they not cheated us and robbed us? Ask O’Don- 
nel whether he was not docked once to the amount of 
ten cars of as pure a coal as ever went out of the mine. 
Why? Simply because a car was dirty, and he had 
sent out eighty cars and they thought he could afford 
to be docked ten. Ask Red Jerry whether he was not 
docked twelve cars a short time ago?” 

“Jerry docked the docking boss for it,” roared a 
voice, “and almost docked Gwynne, himself.” 

“Yes,” continued George, “Jerry did that, but it was 
wrong, but he was under strong provocation, for the 


BOSS TOM. 


267 


docking system that we have now in vogue Is nothing 
more than another system of thievery. 

“Take the sliding scale system, that we have been 
working under. Another piece of trickery, unworthy 
of a righteous man. They promised to regulate the 
wages by the sliding scale ; when coal went up at tide- 
water, we were to receive a corresponding increase, 
and when it went down, we were to have the corre- 
sponding decrease. We agreed to the proposition, but 
how was it carried out? The company were faithful 
enough in one part of the agreement. When the price 
went down we heard of it, and the reduction came as 
certainly, but when the price went up, we scarcely ever 
heard of it. Take the instance of this last three months 
when the price of coal went up and we, instead of re- 
ceiving an increase, — oh ! crowning act of dishonor ! 
received, instead, a cut. They were not satisfied with 
our ignorance, not satisfied with gaining the increase 
that naturally should be given to us, but must augment 
it by curtailing our wages. I ask you, men, if, in the 
face of these things, there is anything for which we 
should strike?” 

“Yes! Yes!” came an angry roar from the crowd. 
“Strike! Strike! Strike!” came from all parts of that 
assemblage, and there were but few that were silent. 
Phillips was the first of that number that arose to his 
feet in protest. 

“Men,” he said, and then paused. “Men, I am no 
speaker, like the others, but I have a word to tell ’ou 
and then I’ll say no more. The company has been 
treating us bad, but there are many of us here that are 
too poor to strike, and have no money, and how are we 
going to strike and live?” I am opposed to a. strike 
because I have no money and my family must live. I 
think that if we must have a strike let it be the last 
thing. Hoyt — ” 

The speaker was interrupted by a storm of hisses at 
the mentioning of Hoyt’s name, but his rotund face 
glowed and he resolutely held his ground, plucky, 


268 


BOSS TOM. 


little Welshman that he was, and refused to be 
hissed down. The hisses ceased and he continued. 

“Hoyt is a much fairer man than we all give him 
credit for. I know that he does not willingly oppress 
the men, but the whole blame rests greatly upon the 
lesser officials, that are trying to hand over as much as 
possible to the company. I think that if we would go 
to him, and tell him, he would give us our rights. If 
we try to push him he is stubborn. I hope, if we must 
have a strike, we will send a committee to him before- 
hand to see what he will do.” 

Phillips was silent. He had spoken the sentiment of 
many of that crowd, but the majority was against him 
as was evidenced by the hisses and angry looks that 
greeted the termination of his speech. Reese, the or- 
ganizer, held up his hand and again spoke. 

“Do not hiss any one for speaking his honest convic- 
tions. The man that has just spoken is an honest, 
hard-working man like the rest of us, and the only rea- 
son why he doesn’t want to strike is because he fears 
that his family will suffer. Now, I want to tell you all 
that if you strike and join the Organization, the Or- 
ganization will see that you are not starved and that 
your families are taken care of. We will also send 
a committee to Hoyt and make our wants known to 
him.” 

Just at this moment there was a movement on the 
outside of the crowd and Father Phelan, the Roman 
Catholic priest of the city, pushed his way to the front. 
He was a man a little above the ordinary height and of 
a thin, pale countenance, and wore spectacles. His 
manner was dignified, yet pleasant and affable and he 
was a great favorite with the men, not only those of his 
own faith, but also with Protestants. His urbane dis- 
position, and the fact that his father had been a miner, 
and his beforetime position as a friend of the working 
classes, had made him a host of friends in the section. 
He had heard of the march of the strikers upon the 
mines of Mayoton, and also knew some of their griev- 


BOSS TOM. 


269 


ances. It was a kindly spirit that had moved him to 
come. “Father Phelan ! Father Phelan ! Father Phe- 
lan !” was heard on all sides, and then similar expres- 
sions of “Speech, Speech !” The priest arose to meet 
the demand. 

“Mr. Chairman, and gentlemen, you are about to 
commence a struggle for your rights, for a redress of 
the grievances of which you have been complaining so 
long, and it is needless for me to say that I sympathize 
with you in this contest. I know as well as any one, the 
things of which you complain. I am not a stranger to 
mining villages and to mining life. As many of you 
are aware, I was raised in a mining village, and am the 
son of a man that wielded a pick and drill, and I have 
experienced all that you are experiencing at this pres- 
ent time. My heart goes out to you in your oppres- 
sion, and I feel for the suffering and sacrifice that may 
ensue. I have learned a little wisdom by my coming in 
contact with strikes, and I want to give you a little of 
that this afternoon. Let me counsel you at the present 
time to remain strictly within the law. In this, your 
struggle, do not, on any occasion, violate the law. It 
is the capitalist and mine owner that is glad to take 
advantage of the slightest outbreak on the part of 
strikers, for they have in that case the plea for state 
aid and what is doubly more fatal to your interest the 
public sympathy for you and your cause will depart 
from you, and without public sympathy you cannot 
expect to win. Do not allow any rash, foolish spirits 
to inveigle you into breaking the law by outward vio- 
lence and incendiarism. In this struggle be upright, 
honorable citizens, peaceable and law abiding. Select a 
committee from the midst of you and send them to the 
operator, Mr. Hoyt, and let them present their de- 
mands. I trust that the strike will end soon with the 
possession of your rights. If you wish me to see Mr. 
Hoyt, (cries of “Yes, Yes.”) I will do so, or anything 
else that I can do will be willingly performed. I will 


270 


BOSS TOM. 


see Mr. Hoyt then, in your interests, since some have 
signified their willingness for me to do so.” 

“Hurrah for Father Phelan!” shouted some one in 
the crowd. 

The priest continued: “Now, keep cool. Do no 
rash act. In fact, to tell the truth, I have such implicit 
faith in the good citizenship of the miner that I know 
that you will do nothing but what is creditable. Min- 
ers of all classes are always disposed to listen to reason. 
I thank you for your attention.” The priest closed with 
a few more words of good advice, the whole of which 
was well received, and then left the assemblage. 

A vote was taken to determine whether they should 
strike or should return to work. The majority voted 
with a hoarse roar for the strike. There were a few 
of those present that voted against it, voicing the cour- 
age of their convictions, but they were as a drop in the 
bucket. Others said nothing, neither one way nor the 
other. The strike having been definitely settled, the 
miners joined the Miners’ Organization, — a local 
branch having been started, of which George Penryn 
was elected president. A committee was appointed to 
interview the superintendent and operator, on which 
were appointed O’Donnel, Jones and Gallagher to act 
jointly with a committee of the foreigners, consisting 
of Mike Gusha, Adam Bogel and Tony Luccaque. The 
committee went to the office, but found that no super- 
intendent was awaiting them, and so they had to be 
content until the morrow. 

Big Bill, the engineer, was not at the meeting. He 
had desired to go, but on account of some business, was 
detained. Being curious to ascertain the action of the 
meeting, he accosted a little Irishman, but lately over 
from the old sod. 

“What was done at the meeting, butty? What did 
the majority decide?” 

“Well now, there was wan majority that was for 
worruk, and there was another majority that was for 
stopp, and they sint a majority to the superintendent 
to have the thing sittled.” 


BOSS TOM. 


271 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

HOME OPINION ON THE STRIKE. 

O H, MOTHER, we are going to have company, 
for the cat is washing her face, and they are 
going to be welcome, for she is using her right 
paw,” said Nellie Penryn to her mother, the evening of 
the strike. Nellie, ever since childhood, had a love for 
kittens. The cat was her favorite friend and oracle. 
For the cat to wash her face with the left paw, was a 
certain indication that the company, thus prophesied, 
would be unwelcome, and for the right paw to be used, 
meant the exact opposite. 

“And, Ned, you say that they are going to strike and 
that the men have joined the Organization,” said 
Molly, paying no attention to the remarks of Nellie 
upon tabby’s prognostication. 

The kitchen stove had been removed from the shanty 
into the back room of the main building, according to 
the autumnal custom, and a slight fire was burning in 
the grate, for the evenings had set in cool. Ned Penryn 
was resting, in a recumbent position, upon the lounge, 
on one side of the room. His good wife, Molly, was in 
the rocking-chair, knitting industriously. Near the 
table, upon a chair, was Nellie, bending over slightly, 
her attention absorbed in watching the slow move- 
ments of Tabby’s paw, that gravely went up and down 
her face, apparently beating time to the song of the 
clock. The few years that had transformed Nellie 
from a child into a young woman, had likewise changed 
the kitten of former years into a mature, stately tabby 
with dignified movements, when not in pursuit of game 
or frolicking with her mistress. A plain, oil lamp, with 


272 


BOSS TOM. 


a colored paper shade, illuminated the whoie scene with 
a mellow glow. 

“Yes,” said Penryn, raising himself upon his elbow; 
“and it will be a long strike, too, and much suffering; 
yes, a passel of suffering among the poor, who doant 
’ave any money. It’s a good job that we ’ave a bit of 
money laid by, and yet, ah is too bad to think that 
Nellie ’as got to be disappointed in going off to school, 
and I suppose the new house of our own will be as far 
off as ever ah was.” 

“We shall be better off than the most of the miners’ 
families, and we ought to be thankful for that. We 
shan’t want for something to eat.” 

“A bad job for that poor Ned Thomas, for I doant 
suppose that they ’ave a bit of money in the ’ouse, or 
in the bank either, laid up for a rainy day. A careless 
woman ! ’ow ’e ever come to marry ’er, I doant knaw. 
Poor spendthrift, as she is.” 

“And there’s Phillips’ family — ” 

“Phillips didn’t want them to strike at all.” 

“I suppose that he had good reason to want them not 
to strike for they don’t have a cent to bless themselves 
with. Mrs. Phillips spends every cent that he earns, 
poor man, and I shouldn’t wonder that they didn’t 
have a bit of fruit done up for the winter.” 

“I doant knaw about that. I ’ave no doubt that ’er 
’as summat done up for the winter, for what does ’er 
spend ’er ’usband’s pay for?” 

“For dress, to be sure.” 

Penryn gave up the argument and started upon a 
new personage. “Then there’s the widow McGlyn, 
with her family ; ’er will ’ave as ’ard a time as any one, 
unless the Organization help the strikers out.” 

“Help the strikers out,” sniffed Molly; “I don’t 
believe they will do much helping any more than the 
what-’ee-call-them, did in the eighties, when they ’ad 
a strike then.” 

“The Knights of Robal,” suggested Penryn. 

“Yes, that was the name that they called themselves 


BOSS TOM. 


273 


by, and a most suiting name too, for they did rob all 
and starve all too, at least, the committee did ; and the 
committee now has stores and wagons and are out of 
the mines. You know what we got then. They gave 
us nothing but a sack of flour and a little coffee, and 
some of that was destroyed. Since that time, I’m not 
in favor of strikes. If you doant have money, you’re 
almost starved, and if you do have money saved 
up for the building of a home for oneselves, then it 
takes all the money that you got to tide you over the 
idle times. Strikes ! Strikes are no good !” 

Penryn’s wife was a better philosopher than he was, 
and a far better talker. After this last broadside, there 
was silence for a moment, during which nothing 
could be heard save the click, click, of the needles, the 
tick, tick, of the clock, and the purring of Tabby. 

“Well,” essayed Ned, making another stand, “the 
men had grievances, and they ought to be righted, and 
the only way that they could be righted was by 
striking.” 

“What were the grievances, Ned?” The needles 
still clicked on. 

“Well, Molly, you see it’s this way. The men first 
want the powder to be reduced. The company’s 
charging two dollars and ninety cents a keg, when in 
other places ’ee can get it for a dollar and forty cents. 
Then they are charging twenty-two cents a pound for 
Dualey powder and it ought to be about ten cents a 
pound. Then they do dock a man so much.” 

“What is docking?” 

“ ’Tes another word for stealing, my dear. You see, 
there es a man on the top that looks at the cars to see 
if they have too much slate in them, gob they call it, 
that es dirt, slate and useless stuff, and if a car ’as too 
much, then the miner that sends it out doant get any 
credit for it. But the miner es careful not to place 
hardly any slate or gob in the car but saves it up so 
that he can send out a car full of slate sometimes and 
then when that car is docked, he doant lose anything 


274 


BOSS TOM. 


for it, except the labor of filling it. But the docking 
boss ’as got into the habit of docking a man if he sends 
out too many cars of good coal, on the general prin- 
ciple that he can afford to lose one or two of them and, 
of course, the company profits by it all. And there es 
the company store, and the compelling a man to buy 
whether he wants to or not, and then to cap the climax, 
they gave us a cut of ten per cent, when the price of 
coal es ’igher today than ah ever was afore.” 

“Well, they ought not to do that, but then a strike 
don’t do no good anyway, for if they win the strike, or 
if they lose the strike, they lose by it. Now, they talk 
about oppression and not being able to live. Ned, if 
you and I can live and save money, I’d like to know 
why others can’t do the same.” 

“ ’Cause I ’ave a good saving wife, and I suppose 
that I’m a tolerable good miner,” responded Ned. 

“Well, the people lose by a strike, no matter which 
way it turns out,” resumed Molly, returning to the 
attack. “Now, suppose the mines are idle three months, 
we lose by it your pay for that time, and you, Ned, ’ave 
been earning on an average of sixty dollars a month ; 
that would be a hundred and eighty dollars. Then 
we ’ave to live through the strike, and that may take up 
sixty dollars of our savings or, perhaps, more. That 
would make two hundred and forty dollars of our 
money, to say nothing of the money we lose by not 
having it on interest in the bank. Now, suppose that 
the men do win the strike, and the powder is brought 
down, and the men do get all that they want, how long 
do you suppose that it will take to make up the money 
that is lost, to say nothing of the time?” 

Ned was floored, and shook his head. “I doant knaw, 
Molly, you’ll ’ave to ask George, for I’m not much of a 
scholar.” 

“Strikes don’t pay and I would like to ask the leaders 
what they would make out of it. I could tell them a 
piece of my mind, good-for-nothing scamps, as they 


BOSS TOM. 


275 


are ! They’ll feather their nests well, and start in bus- 
iness when the strike is over. They’re rogues, all.” 

“Why,” said Penryn, with a smile, “Molly, did ’ee 
knaw that our George es at the head of the Miners’ 
Organization of this place?” 

“Well, I never!” ejaculated Mrs. Penryn, as she left 
her knitting fall to the ground, and her face flushed and 
her eyes sparkled. “Well ! I always said that our 
George would get up in this world. And he’s ’lected to 
the head of the Organization and all the miners are 
under him ! Well, that is a credit and an honor to him 
and to us, too. He’s getting up higher and higher.” 

“And ’e made a speech, too, as good as the priest’s 
speech,” added her husband. 

“Well, I never!” said Mrs. Penryn, while her eyes 
grew brighter, and sparkled with pride. “And he made 
a speech and was it fine?” 

“Fine ! I guess ah was and was as good as the priest 
made, and all the people cheered, too ; ah made me 
proud that I ’ad a son like that.” 

“And what did they say afterward? Did they say it 
was a good one?” 

“Yes,” continued Penryn, “that is the reason that 
they elected he to be the president of the Organ- 
ization.” 

“And what will Mr. Penhall say to that?” asked 
Molly. 

“Of course, Tom must stand for the company, thas 
whas he’s paid for. But he knaws that the men are 
treated bad and should have their rights, but then I 
doant knaw whether ’e would like it to ’ave George at 
the ’ead of the strike. He took a sight of interest in 
George, and ’elped ’im along — ” 

There was a rap upon the door, and upon its being 
opened, the very party of whom they were speaking 
stood before them. It was Tom Penhall, and his wife 
and daughter, who had come over for an evening call. 

“I was right, or rather Tabby was, for we are having 


BOSS TOM. 


276 

company, and they are welcome company, too,” said 
Nellie. 

“Why, was the cat telling you that we were coming 
around to see you?” asked Alice, as she, having saluted 
all present, began a conversation with Nellie. 

“Yes, she did; she was washing her face with her 
right paw, and that always means welcome company.” 

Meantime, Tom and his wife were entering into the 
conversation, Tom with Ned, and his wife with Molly, 
and the strike was the general theme. 

“Did ’ee ’ear of the beating that Red Jerry gave the 
docking boss?” 

“I heard a part of it or a little about it. Did ’ee see 
him, Tom?” 

“No, but I heard all about it from Dolan. Jerry was 
drunk and fighting mad about Henny docking ’im 
twelve cars, and it was summat to get mad about, too ; 
but ’e ought not to ’ave done as ’e done. Jerry nearly 
killed un. ’E was all battered up as if ’e ’ad gone 
through the machinery of the breaker, and they took 
’im home and ’ad two doctors for ’im, but ’e will get 
over it. Jerry went afterward up to the office, and 
threatened to lick the superintendent, and the superin- 
tendent cut at un with the whip, and that scared the 
horse ’e was driving and the cut come down upon the 
’ead of Tony. It nearly caused a strike among the 
Hitalians, for they all like Tony.” 

“And what became of Jerry?” 

“Oh, the police officers come after ’im, and ’e licked 
one of them, and then others come and ’e was taken to 
the lock-up. Jerry is a terrible man when ’e’s mad, and 
’as a bit of liquor. He didn’t use to drink. Did ’ee see 
Bill and the Hitalian at the slope mouth this after- 
noon?” Tom asked. 

“No, I ’eard though, that he nearly killed the fellow, 
but I wasn’t there. The first thing that I knew of the 
strike, a fellow that I didn’t knaw, come into the breast 
and said that there was no work today ; that there was 
a strike, and as he seemed a little determined, and there 


BOSS TOM. 


277 


were about twenty of them come up at that time, 1 
thought that I ’ad better stop, and so I come up to the 
surface ; but about that time the mines were all cleaned 
out, so I went to the meeting but didn’t ’ear of what 
Bill did until afterward. But do tell us all about un, 
Tom, wost tha, for first we ’eard one thing and then 
we ’eard another. I ’eard at first that Bill was set 
upon by a crowd and ’e knocked them all around like 
nine-pins and almost killed two or three chaps.” 

“ No, it was only one Hitalian that ’e had the scrim- 
mage with, but ’e was a big one. I think that ’e was 
the biggest Hitalian that I ever seen, but, o ’course, ’e 
wasn’t as big as Bill. Bill was at the engine hoisting 
a car out of the slope, and ’ad it about ’alf way up, 
when in stepped the furriner and said, ‘Stop work, no 
work, strike !’ Bill ’ad ’is ’and upon the lever and 
couldn’t leave go just at that time. The furriner, think- 
ing that he wouldn’t stop, hit ’im with a club that ’e ’ad 
and then, Bill, ’aving got the car up out of the slope at 
that time, turned upon ’im, and ’e out of the engine 
house and Bill after ’im as mad as a hornet. He caught 
’im at the top of the slope, and choked the life nearly 
out of ’im with one ’and, and then with the other ’and 
to ’elp ’im, he lifted un up over ’is ’ead and I believe ’e 
was that mad ’e would ’ave ’eaved un down the slope 
unless we ’ad gotten the Hitalian away from ’im, and 
even then, the fight was not all out of Bill, for ’e want- 
ed to lick the whole mob. But some one got ’im home. 
I tell ’ee, I feared a riot all the time Bill was upon the 
ground.” There was awed attention during this talk 
of Tom, and after he was through, there was a lull in 
the conversation. 

“Well, what dost think of the strike, Tom?” 

“I think that the men are foolish to go out on strike 
at the present time, and I think that a strike at all 
times is a foolish thing. Some times they win, but the 
advantages that they win by the strike are lost by the 
long time they are out of work. To be sure, the men 
’ave grievances, but they ought to go and tell the oper- 


278 


BOSS TOM. 


ator of them. The great fault is that they stop at the 
superintendent. Now, Hoyt is as kind a man as ever 
lived, so long as ’ee doant drive un. Then, even ef the 
men doant get a redress of grievances and continue at 
work, they are much better off than ef they should 
strike two or three months and win their strike by get- 
ting a few small concessions from the operator. They 
can hardly ever make up for the amount they have lost 
in time and money by being idle so long; and it’s the 
same thing with the operator, who es just as foolish as 
the strikers, for even if he wins, he ’as lost a great deal 
more than ’e would ’ave lost ef ’e ’ad granted the meri 
a few concessions. ’E loses hundreds of thousands of 
dollars, to say nothing of the loss of burnt and de- 
stroyed property.” 

Ned nodded his head, while Tom, after a pause, con- 
tinued : “And there are generally at the ’eads of the 
Organization, a set of unscrupulous agitators and 
rogues who live off these strikes. If I could talk with 
the ’eads of the Organization, I think that I could tell 
them a thing or two, that they ought to ’ear.” 

Molly’s countenance flushed a little angrily at the 
epithets that Boss Tom hurled at the heads of the Or- 
ganization, for though she opposed strikes with the 
same arguments that Tom had used, she had modified 
her opinions, mother like, when she knew of the posi- 
tion of her son. 

“They are not all rogues, Mr. Penhall ; some of them 
are good, respectable men, and are only anxious for 
their rights that they ought to ’ave.” 

Tom was surprised by this broadside from the femi- 
nine quarter. “Well, some of them may be ’onest 
men enough, to be sure.” 

Here the conversation was interrupted by the en- 
trance of Big Bill and his sister, Beatrice. Bill took 
off his hat as he entered, for he was afraid of breaking 
the new derby against the top of the doorway. 

“ ’Ow are ’ee, Bill ; ’ow are ’ee, Beatty,” said Pen- 
ryn, to the newcomers, and then continued as he no- 


BOSS TOM. 


279 


ticed another figure in the background. “Well, as I 
live, there is more company a coming. ’Ow are ’ee, 
Mary, come in; ’ow’s your father. I suppose ’e got 
off from the mob without a hammering.” 

Mary responded pleasantly to these salutations and 
questions and then Nellie asked her to take off her hat 
and offered her a chair near herself and Alice, and they 
all three entered into a conversation of their own, in 
which Tabby was an interested spectator. 

Bill was still indignant that a dirty foreigner, as he 
called him, had attempted to stop him from working, 
and had even struck him. Beatty was glad to think 
that her Bill got away from the mob in safety. It 
would have grieved her very much if her Bill had been 
hurt, she said. Bill poohed this thought of his sister, 
saying that he wasn’t afraid of the whole crowd of 
them and to prove the fact he was going to work to- 
morrow, that is, if Tom wanted him to come. 

“Bill,” said Nellie, who had overheard the remark, 
“you are my hero,” and she cast an admiring, mis- 
chievous look at Bill, that made the big fellow look a 
little uncomfortable and deepened the natural red col- 
or of his big neck and face. 

In the midst of Bill’s confusion, in stalked, without 
knocking, the form of Mike Clyde. He had heard that 
Bill was there and he had stepped in to see how he felt 
after his encounter with the big Italian. Oh no, he 
could not stay long, he said in answer to Nellie’s re- 
quest for his hat. He had just come in for a moment to 
see Bill and then he sat on the other side of Bill’s sis- 
ter and occasionally made a remark to Bill across the 
intervening space. Of course, he had to lean over in 
Beatty’s direction whenever he desired to direct a re- 
mark to Bill, and, of course, it wouldn’t be polite to 
ignore Bill’s sister either, being seated so close to her. 

Clyde thought that the strike was perfectly right 
until he heard Bill’s opinion of going to work upon the 
morrow, and then he thought he ought to be there, 
too, inasmuch as the pumps must be kept running to 


280 


BOSS TOM. 


keep the mines free from water ; generally the strikers 
didn’t oppose the running of the pumps, as by that 
means the mines were kept in good condition for the 
resumption of work immediately after the strike issues 
were settled. 

“Was you afraid, Beatty, when the mob came?” 
jerked out Clyde in a side remark to Beatty. 

“Yes, a little for Bill, for he has such a high temper 
when he is cross.” 

“You just ought to have seen him at the slope! He 
was just like one of the fellows that we read about in 
the ‘Scottish Chiefs.’ I was there and so were some 
others and we would have stuck to Bill through thick 
and thin against the whole crowd.” 

“You are very brave, Mr. Clyde,” said Beatty, and 
she cast a look at the pump-master that made him feel 
like one of the characters he had before mentioned. Bill 
was engaged in the conversation with Tom and Pen- 
ryn, and Clyde was perfectly willing that he should 
thus engage his attention. 

“Come out and see the tire !” exclaimed a voice from 
the outside. It was George. He and Jimmy had been 
attending a meeting of the Organization in the school- 
house and, on the way home, had noticed the great 
light far in the distance. Tom, Bill and Penryn went 
without, and the others flocked to the door and win- 
dow. Clyde and Beatty being the most remote from 
either place of observation, sat where they were and 
talked and were silent by turns. 

“That’s a nice ring that you got, Beatty,” said Clyde, 
and he leaned over and took hold of Beatty’s hand to 
examine the ring and it took an indefinitely long time 
to satisfy his curiosity, and, of course he needs must 
hold her hand to examine that ring. What a hand 
it was, anyway, thought Clyde, and the very touch 
of those fingers made his heart thump and his blood 
to run rapidly in his veins. It was a red hand and a 
plump hand and a strong hand, he observed, the hand 
of the perfect housekeeper. It was that hand that had 


BOSS TOM. 


281 


made that delicious apple pie that he had tasted, and 
his stomach warmed within him at the remembrance. 
To have pie like that in his dinner bucket every day 
and to have those strong plump fingers at home a mak- 
ing more to eat for supper, that was paradise. 

“That certainly is a nice ring, Beatty, and sets off 
the hand well.” 

Yes, he contiued in his thoughts, how pleasant it was 
to hold Beatty’s hand anyhow; the more he held it the 
more he wanted to hold it. And that was the hand, 
too, that knit all of Bill’s stockings for him. How fine 
it would be to have that hand knit stockings 
for him to wear in the mines and to have her at home 
a knitting more stockings for him when— when — when, 
— yes, when he needed them. He was dimly conscious 
of an ill clad pair of feet at the time; it was a hard 
thing for him to get stockings to suit him in the store. 

“That certainly is a nice ring, Beatty, and it must be 
good and cost a sight of siller.” 

That was the hand, too, that was a washing the 
dishes that night when he sat in the kitchen eating pie. 
She was deft with her hand, as a good housekeeper 
should be, and what a nice hand it was, too. 

“Beatty, will you — ” 

Beatty flushed a bright crimson. 

“Beatty, will you,” essayed Clyde once again, “will 
you knit me a pair of stockings like ye knit Bill, and 
I’ll pay for them ; the stockings that one gets in the 
store don’t last very long you see, and if ye will I’ll 
wear them on — on — on” Clyde was going to say his 
heart, and then he laughed foolishly and added, “my 
feet, to be sure.” 

Beatty signified that she would, willingly; store 
stockings were poor things after all. 

The parties at the window were leaving their places 
and Clyde was satisfied apparently in his study of 
Beatty’s ring and relinquished her hand. 

“A breaker, no doubt,” said Tom, as the parties out- 
side came within. “We Will have to be careful, Bill, that 


282 


BOSS TOM. 


some ’ot ’ead doant burn our breaker. It does the 
strike no good and the best of the strikers wouldn’t 
think of a thing like that, but we ’ave to look out for 
the furriners. They Hitalians are a bad lot. There’s 
tha Matsque and Delucca ; they’re regular hang-dogs.” 

“We’ll have no trouble tonight, for the demands of 
the committee have not been placed before the super- 
intendent or operator, but if Hoyt refuses, as I strong- 
ly suspect that he will, then we’ll have to look out for 
the breaker.” 

“No one would do a thing like that in the town of 
Mayoton,” said George, and his remark was warmly 
seconded by Jimmy. Boss Tom made no reply to the 
words of George. Indeed Tom had treated George a 
little coldly and distantly and it grieved George 
greatly, for he attributed it to the fact of his being the 
head of the strike movement in Mayoton, while Tom, 
of course, was for the company. The truth of the 
matter was that the old Boss with his strict ideas of 
honor and honesty was cruelly wounded that morning 
by the news from Gwynne that George had proved un- 
faithful in his duty, and he could not talk with George 
without showing his indignation. The fact to him 
seemed proven by the corroboration of Reeber and, in 
the mortification of his hopes for George, he had said 
nothing. No, not even to his wife would he reveal how 
he had been wounded. George did not know that 
Gwynne had given Tom such a garbaged account of 
the affair; he was, in fact, not aware that anybody 
knew except Reeber and Gwynne. He saw no reason 
for Tom’s distant manner, but the fact of his eleva- 
tion to the presidency of the Organization. Did the 
fact of his elevation to that dignity make any difference 
with Alice? He thought not. There had been a time 
between the fit of jealousy he had had at the roadside, 
when he had first seen young Gwynne at the home of 
Tom, and the entering upon the duties of assistant pay- 
master, when an estrangement grew up between Alice 
and himself. Since the time Tom had obtained for 


BOSS TOM. 


283 


him that office, he had been upon better terms of in- 
timacy with Tom’s people. Would the strike make 
any difference with Alice? No, he thought. She was 
far too sensible a girl. 

Jimmy O’Donnel was seated by Mary and directed 
a remark to her every now and then. There was a 
little reserve in his manner, for he had not gotten over 
his treatment at the school, when Mary had stirred his 
jealous rage. The talk was upon the hard times of 
former strikes and the sufferings of the people. Mary 
finally arose, saying that it was time for her to return 
home and that she did not like to be out late in these 
strike times, when so many rough characters were 
abroad. Jimmy, observant one, took this as a hint 
for him to accompany her, and arose to do so. To- 
gether they left the Penryn home. 

“Come, Bill, I think that we ought to go, too,” 
Beatty said to her brother, but he was too much inter- 
ested in a conversation with Boss Tom to leave at that 
time and Beatty said that shd was going and that he 
could follow. In the darkness of the night Beatty was 
going along with a tranquil mind over a bit of tran- 
quil road. There was no fear in the heart of Beatty; 
that buxom damsel had the spirit and heart of her 
great brother. She was not afraid of the dreaded “fur- 
riners” for there were none of them likely to be in that 
part of the town, and even if they had, Beatty would 
have pursued her tranquil way, for she had strength in 
her arm as well as her brother. The crisp leaves that 
had already begun to fall, were crunched under her 
steady tread. There was a heavy step behind her ; a 
rapid step, as well as heavy, that seemed to make 
nothing of obstacles ; a step that seemed to be in a 
hurry and then a voice. 

“I thought that it wouldn’t be right to let you go 
home alone in these times when things are so unset- 
tled; I thought that I would just go along to see that 
no harm would come to you.” 

It was Clyde who fell into step alongside of her. 


284 


BOSS TOM. 


Beatty responded that she didn’t think that any harm 
would come to her, but she was glad to have company, 
and especially as he was going her way, 

“It’s a bad thing about the strike, Mr. Clyde/’ 

“It’s a bad thing for me, for I had intended to build 
a house, and I must save instead of spend.” 

“A house! Land’s sake! Mr. Clyde, are you going 
to get married or what are you going to build a house 
for?” 

“Well, I — I — I — ” stammered Clyde, for this direct 
way of putting a question flustered him, “I was a think- 
ing that I might, that is, sometime, you know, Beatty; 
yes, sometime, Beatty.” 

“To be sure, Mr. Clyde. I have often wondered why 
you didn’t, for you are a likely man enough and saving, 
too.” 

“I have eight hundred dollars saved up in the bank 
and I might as well do something with it.” 

“To be sure, Mr. Clyde.” 

“Ah, — um — ah — what kind of a house — ah — would 
you think would be a nice kind to put up, Miss 
Beatty?” said Clyde, with a vast amount of halting and 
stammering, the words being kind of lost in the hairy 
appendage of his upper lip. 

“Dear, dear, I don’t know ; I suppose that you ought 
to ask the future wife,” said Beatty, with a laugh. 

“Ah, — I — ah,” stammered Clyde, and then he was 
silent and the opportunity was lost to him, the oppor- 
tunity of his life, for it would have come easy and nat- 
ural to him, he thought afterward, to have spoken his 
mind then and there. 

“Well,” said Beatty, taking pity upon his hesita- 
tion, “since you have asked me, I think that a house 
should be upon a cottage style with three rooms down 
and a kitchen and a good sized hall-way and a good 
sized porch in front, and vines and climbing roses run- 
ning up a trellis at the side.” Beatty continued giv- 
ing her ideas of a house until she reached her own gate. 


BOSS TOM. 


285 


“That’s my idea, Mr. Clyde, but, of course, you ought 
to ask her, you know.” 

“I — ah will sometime, Beatty; do you think now — ” 

“To be sure, Mr. Clyde, and now I must go in and 
light the lamp for Billy. I’m much obliged for your 
company home.” 

“Well, good night,” said Clyde, seeing that there 
was nothing left for him but to go. 

“Good night,” said Beatty, as she disappeared within 
the door. 

“I would have asked her then and there if she hadn’t 
been in such a hurry to go in and light the lamp for 
Bill,” said Clyde to himself as he turned regretfully 
away. “I wonder if she would have said ‘To be sure, 
Mr. Clyde’ to that.” Clyde didn’t know, but he thought 
that he would see sometime again. 

Beatty was not in a good humor. 

“Men are so stupid!” she exclaimed as she whisked 
off her shawl and hung it upon a hook in the kitchen. 

When Mary and Jimmy left the home of Penryn, the 
latter did not offer his arm, as she had said, upon a 
former occasion that she had arms of her own; but 
Mary did not wait to be asked, for her arm slid into 
Jimmy’s as they passed a crowd of drunken Hun- 
garians and Jimmy, to reassure her, his former haughty 
resolution having vanished in that act of Mary, must 
need place his arm around her “entirely” as he after- 
wards thought. 

“I thought that you said once upon a time that you 
had arms of your own, Mary.” 

“Now, Jimmy O’Donnel,” said Mary, reprovingly 
and Jimmy didn’t know whether she referred to the 
recalling of that former incident, or this last bit of de- 
lightful presumption on the part of his arm. 

“Mary, I have been learning wonderfully since I 
went to school to old Tom. Tom told me that zero 
was a circle. Now what is the difference between zero 
and me arm?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know.” 


286 


BOSS TOM. 


“Well, a zero is a circle with nawthing inside of it, 
and my arm is a circle with the whole world in — ” 

“Now, Jimmy.” 

There was silence after that ; silence except the 
crunch of crisp leaves under their feet, and the chirp 
of some benighted bird. 

“Mary,” at length ventured Jimmy, “do you know 
that I think the same of you now as I did when I was 
a boy?” 

“How should I know?” said Mary, after more si- 
lence. The words were the outcome of the lack of 
something to say. 

“Because I can prove it. I called ye an angel then 
and — ” 

“Don’t be foolish. Jimmy.” 

“Mary, I’m not foolish, sure ; if I’m foolish and it 
feels like this to be foolish, then I want to be foolish 
all me life. I do so, for it’s a happy thing to be a fool, 
Mary, when you have company, such as I am in at the 
present time.” 

“Jimmy O’Donnel, do you mean to call me a fool?” 
said Mary, with a trace of amused anger in her tone. 

“No, no, Mary, but I would like to be a fool with you, 
Mary, all me life. Ye know what I mean, Mary, sure 
and now ye do, will ye be me wife, Mary — there I’ve 
said it at last.” 

Jimmy was silent and so was Mary and there were 
no more words spoken on the way to the house “be- 
yant the Breaker.” The gate was reached at length 
and there was a pause. 

“What do ye say, Mary,” and there was a world of 
pathetic pleading in that Irish voice. The wind began 
to rise and whistled dismally in the breaker heights 
overhead, and Mary leaned closer against the young 
man. Was it the cold or something else? Then came 
Mary’s answer, low and only understood by one. There 
was a merry laugh on the part of Jimmy, a happy 
laugh, and then something else, a lower, softer sound, 
with quite as much happiness in it, as Mary held up 


BOSS TOM. 


287 


her glowing countenance toward Jimmy. In the dark 
shadow of the night, that was observed by none but 
the great, gaunt, rambling breaker which, in tender 
sympathy for a lovers’ compact, held up its head and 
flirted with the night wind and whistled in the great 
caverns of its head-works, as if saying, “You need 
fear no spying intrusion on my part; kiss her again 
while I kiss the night wind ; we’ll be four lovers here 
tonight and our compact shall be a happy one. Ho, 
for love !” Again came the sound of the gently rising 
night wind kissing and whispering softly to the 
breaker-head above, and a similar thing and gentle 
words, the vocal thoughts of loving hearts, be- 
neath, and then — 

The door opened and Dolan, pater, stood upon the 
steps and peered anxiously into the night. 

“Is that you, Mary?” 

“Yes, father,” said Mary, as she tripped lightly up 
the steps of her home. 

Jimmy, upon Dolan’s appearance, raised his hat and 
disappeared unseen. 

“We have been waiting for ye, Mary; we thought 
that something had befallen ye on the way home.” 

“Was there any goats in the garden, Peter?” asked 
Mrs. Dolan, anxiously. 

“No, I thought that I heard a goat butting and 
cracking the fence palings, but it was the — ” 

“Closing of the gate,” supplied Mary, while her face 
became a trifle prettier. Was Jimmy’s laugh like the 
sound of a cracking fence paling? 

“The gate,” said Dolan; “it moight be.” 


288 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

AMONG THE OPERATORS. 

M AN is a curious animal, and when the object 
concerns himself, his curiosity merges into 
interest. When momentous things are at issue 
or hanging in the balance, a subtle attraction draws 
many to the scene, and like the crowds outside a 
village squire’s office, when a local case is bothering 
the brains of his honor, and embryonic pleaders are 
essaying to rival Desmosthenes, and still more befog, 
and befuddle the learned visaged, bald-headed al- 
derman, they cluster around knowing something is go- 
ing on, but knowing nothing and hearing nothing, but 
wisely waiting in hope. So was it at the office of the 
Mayoton Coal Company on the day after the strike. 
The committee was interviewing the lion in his den, 
with closed doors, and hanging around the store and 
the office building, some as human buttresses to the 
walls, and others in groups around the doors, were 
the men of Mayoton, waiting to know they knew not 
what. The more ambitious among the breaker boys, 
inspired with the same spirit that led them to crawl 
under circus tents on show-day, had fastened them- 
selves, fungus-like, to a telegraph pole without, and 
were peering cautiously through the window to see 
“what Gwynne was a-doing,” and to tell the excited 
youngsters below that they thought that O’Donnel 
was a-going to swipe him one, or that Tony might 
stick him for the whip cut he give him, which infor- 
mation caused a buzz of excitement, and an effort on 
the part of some who were jealous of the others’ ex- 
alted position, to haul them down and take their sta- 
tions to witness the exceedingly interesting operation. 


BOSS TOM. 


289 


“Did O’Donnel swipe him?” 

“Naw, he just thumped the desk.” 

“What’s Tony doing?” 

“Nawthing,” was the discouraging answer. 

“Gallagher looks as if he was a cussing him and 
Gwynne looks mad.” 

The men were more sober in their attitude than the 
lads. 

“I don’t think that he will do anything that the men 
wants,” said Bill, the engineer, to old Dicky Curnow. 

“ ’E may,” said old Dicky, who had not given up the 
hope that the strike could be averted. 

“I hope ’ou are right and that we have no strike,” 
said Phillips. 

The committee, after a long parley within, came out. 
It was scarcely necessary to ask them the fruits of 
their interview. It could be seen in the countenances 
of the six men. George Penryn and Jimmy O’Donnel 
held an informal meeting of the miners outside the 
schoolhouse, and the faces of all were illuminated 
with expectation as they prepared to listen to the re- 
port of the committee. Gwynne had listened to them 
patiently enough, but had refused to consider the de- 
mands at all, and said that no one should dictate to 
him how he should run the mines but the company, 
and as long as he was superintendent it should be the 
same. There were sullen looks upon the faces of the 
men there assembled, as this news was announced 
to them. 

The crowd had dispersed at the office when Gwynne 
had another audience with men upon a different mis- 
sion. There was Tom Penhall, Bruice, Pat Develry, 
Peter Dolan, Sandy, Lewis, and a host of other bosses 
and company officials, who had been summoned to 
appear at the office after the exit of the committee of 
the strikers. The grim war dog of a score of strikes 
was seated in his office chair near the brick fire-place, 
and informed his men in short sentences what he de- 
sired. They must guard the breaker and property, 


290 


BOSS TOM. 


night and day. Now, that there had been a definite 
refusal of the demand of the men, what was done at 
other collieries might be done here, and Gwynne was 
prepared to prevent that. The wages of the officials 
would be increased on account of the danger of the 
work. A force of men would guard the works by 
day, and a double force at night. 

“Come in at five o’clock this evening,” Gwynne said 
to the men in parting with them, “and I’ll have arms 
and ammunition ready for your use.” Finn entered 
the office a little late. “Ah, Mr. Finn, I’m glad to see 
you ; we needed you yesterday.” 

“I was at a funeral of a relative, yesterday,” Finn 
said in defense of himself. 

“Well, I want you to see that no property is de- 
stroyed; you will have plenty of assistance from the 
bosses. See to it, Finn, that there are arms here this 
evening for the men. Reeber will keep the office open 
until that time, and now I must go and attend to other 
matters.” 

Gwynne passed out of the office and entered his bug- 
gy that was waiting for him. A few Hungarians and 
Italians cast sullen looks upon him as he drove off, and 
it would have been well for him had he paid more at- 
tention to them. 

“What do you think?” said Gallagher to O’Donnel, 
“I saw Gwynne going to church the other day wid a 
prayer book under his arm ; I didn’t know that the 
loikes of him had any religion at all.” 

“Well, I think that he has the nade of prayer if any 
wan has, for those Hikes and Hunks looked most 
divilish at him as he passed.” 

Gwynne was in a hurry and the horses didn’t seem 
to travel as fast as he would like to have them go. He 
was to attend a meeting of the operators at the Low- 
land Company offices, and was already a little late. 
He urged on the horses into a swift trot, and after an 
hour’s ride over the rough mountain roads, drew up at 
his destination. 


BOSS TOM. 


291 


There were quite a number there already. In fact, 
Gwynne was the only one late. There was Brown, 
superintendent of the Meadow Mine, of which Mr. 
Hoyt was the owner; President McLee, of the O. & 
K. R. R. Coal Co. ; operators Lowe, Brugarf and De- 
Roy, of the Big Valley collieries and the Lowlands, 
Senior and Junior. Mr. Lowland Sr. was a thick set 
fellow as was also his son. The father had bought the 
land for little or nothing, believing that coal was there. 
His expectations were more than realized by the large 
collieries that subsequently sprang into existence. 
From a poor man with a few thousands, he became a 
millionaire ; but in the midst of his wealth, he forgot 
that he was once poor ; he never for a moment thought 
of his employes as human beings, but regarded them 
as mere machines to accumulate more wealth to cram 
his coffers, full already to overflowing. His son had 
been reared in his father’s ideas. DeRoy was some- 
what taller than the Lowlands and, though not quite 
inspired with the same principles as they, fiercely 
resented any interference with his rights. He would 
not be dictated to by his men or others. Brugarf and 
Lowe and McLee were men of medium height and as 
imperious as any of the others. They believed that 
the interests of the men would be best taken care of 
by those who were divinely appointed in charge of 
the wealth of the earth. The same spirit that moved 
within the breasts of the western farmer, to buy land, 
to raise corn, to feed hogs, to make money, to buy 
more land, to raise more corn, to feed more hogs, to 
make more money, to buy more land ad infinitum, 
was in the breasts of these gentlemen. More money, 
more wealth, was the constant war-cry of their lives, 
and nothing must stop them. The land was theirs, 
the coal was their own, and the men were their own 
tools. Hoyt was the only man among the number 
who had any respect for the rights of his men, and he, 
though generous hearted, and ready to listen to the 
complaints of his own men, would not be driven by 


292 


BOSS TOM. 


them, and especially not by outsiders. Drive him and 
it was a case of dog in the manger. 

“Mr. Gwynne, you are a little late/’ gruffly said 
Lowland Sr. 

“Yes, I was hindered a little by a committee of the 
strikers, who wanted me to assure them some con- 
cessions.” 

“And what did you tell them?” asked Hoyt. 

“That it was not for me to say what I could do ; that 
was for the company, but I assured them that if I had 
my way they wouldn’t get a thing in the line of con- 
cessions,” and Gwynne set his jaws together like a 
steel trap. 

“I was also detained a little by the bosses whom I 
had sent for to inform them that they were to guard 
the property night and day, to see that no harm was 
done.” Hoyt nodded his head approvingly. 

“Yes,” said Brown, “if we had done that we would 
not now be minus a breaker.” 

“Here, too,” said Lowland Sr. gruffly. 

“Well, the point is, gentlemen, shall we hold to- 
gether, and fight the strike, or shall we give them 
some concessions and end the matter?” It was Pres. 
McLee, chairman of the meeting, who had spoken. 

“We could afford to give them some concessions 
but for the action of the men,” said Hoyt, “I am always 
disposed to listen to my own men whenever they 
come to me. But when my men assume to force me 
to do as they want, it is virtually dictating to me what 
I shall do with my own property, and I want no man 
to force me. While they maintain their present at- 
titude, I do not feel like yielding a single inch in their 
favor.” 

“There is a set of idle vagabonds, disturbers of the 
peace, who are the leaders,” said Brugarf. 

“Not a single concession,” said DeRoy. 

“We must combine and break this strike and crush 
them so that they will never have heart to rise again. 


BOSS TOM. 


293 


That's the only way to deal with them," said Lowe in 
a sharp, quick tone. 

“What were the demands that the men made of you, 
Mr. Gwynne?” asked Lowland Jr. 

“They wanted a raise of ten per cent., no company 
store, the reduction of the powder bill, and a few other 
things." 

“The same things that our strikers wanted from 
us. The worst demand of all is the company store. 
It seems unreasonable to me, that men who earn 
their bread by working for us, do not feel that it is 
right to purchase the goods that they need from us. 
It is a fair exchange. We give them a chance to earn 

their living and it is ungrateful and unfair," said 

Brugarf. 

“With me it is not the question of wages; that 
could be granted ; but by taking the stand that they do, 
they are making it a question of ownership of the 
mines. It is a question whether they shall run my 
works, or whether I shall be master of my own," said 
Hoyt. 

“Precisely as I thought," said Gwynne. 

“They are a set of discontented scamps, and I move 
that we grant them not a single concession," growled 
Lowland Sr. 

“I would second the motion," said Lowe, quickly 
and sharply. 

“Gentlemen," said Hoyt, “we cannot afford to yield 
to the men in this strike, for if they win, they will 
think that they have established a precedent and a 
prestige upon which they can run the future. The 
men must be taught that the operators own their own 
mines ; if we yield to them here the first thing that 
stirs their ire will cause them to strike again. Their 
demands will never cease. It will be demands for 
more and more privileges, until we may as well sell 
out and leave. I vote against yielding them an inch 
in this struggle." 

The question was put and carried unanimously. 


294 


BOSS TOM. 


“Shall we attempt to run the mines?” asked Brown, 
the Meadow superintendent. 

“We will swear in deputies and run the mines and 
let them dare to interfere. Gentlemen, the state is 
back of us, and the law,, and if we cannot win” — said 
DeRoy, haughtily. 

He was interrupted by the calm, smooth voice of 
Hoyt. “I am not in favor of running the mines. Let 
the pumps be kept running, and we shall hold out 
until they are tired of it.” 

“I am in favor of swearing in deputies and running 
the mines ; the men will not dare to interfere,” said 
Lowland Sr. 

“They interfered in the breaker burning,” said Hoyt, 
“and it seems unreasonable to me that we should take 
any unnecessary risk. The running of the works will 
only increase the animosity of the strikers, and stir 
up the violent ones of the number.” 

“The best way is to starve them into submission, 
works running or not,” said Brugarf. 

“We can swear in deputies, at least, and then, by 
spotting the leaders, and by not allowing them to have 
work in the whole region, show them that they cannot 
strike with impunity. That was done at the last strike, 
and it was tolerably effective.” It was Superintendent 
Gwynne that had spoken. 

The discussion went on for an hour or so and then, 
a plan of united action having been formulated, the 
operators and their respective superintendents separ- 
ated to attend to the interest of their respective mines. 


BOSS TOM. 


295 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE ITALIAN PLOT. 

M URKY was the night, and moonless, and 
scarcely a star struggled fitfully against the 
opaque blackness of the heavens. The day had 
been one of storm and wind, violent gusts, and rain in 
torrents, then dribble and drizzle, then silence and 
then more rain, and blasts of hurricane force that tore 
and whipped around buildings, and rattled window 
panes, as with a spirit of unrest. It was the charac- 
teristic spirit of the Autumnal equinox. Toward even- 
ing the rain ceased, but dark, heavy, and leaden-hued 
clouds still moved across the sky in the shape of flying 
banners, and other fantastic forms, until the coming of 
night blotted out all in general darkness. The leaves, 
though early in the season, had changed in color, and 
stiffened, and an occasional rude blast would hurl 
some of them from their boughs. The buildings of 
the town of Mayoton could be faintly seen in darker 
outlines than the dark gloom of the night, and above 
all, in the distance, loomed up like the ghost of some 
fabled Titanic creation, the great breaker, its head ele- 
vated far above all surrounding objects. Now and 
then a blast would sweep through its top crevices and 
batter, and beat, and thump its creaking timbers, until, 
like a human, it would groan, and sigh, and shriek in 
the anguish of punishment. A few spitting and gib- 
bering electric lights, a mockery of illumination, suf- 
ficed to light up a few feet or so around the base of the 
great building and engine house, and rendered 
darker the night beyond. It was not a pleasant night 
to be out in, and the bulk of Mayoton’s people were 
safely housed within doors, but the rays of twinkling 


296 


BOSS TOM. 


lights penetrated the drawn shades here and there, 
and were sucked up and devoured greedily by the 
darkness. 

Between the stripping and Number One slope, were 
the company stables. Behind these were a score of 
sheds and one-storied huts, known as the Italian quar- 
ters. Here lived, or hived, about fifty to seventy Ital- 
ians. They had, moved by the spirit of economy, 
built these huts themselves, from old boards and 
pieces of waste tin and sheet-iron, and the company, 
under the rulership of Gwynne, had charitably and 
magnanimously charged them fifty cents a month for 
the privilege of standing and existing on a few feet of 
God’s earth. The location was dirty and squalid as 
also were the people and their habitations. Pools of 
foul water, stagnant with filth, and rotten heaps of 
refuse, impregnated the air with foul odors, but the 
company mules did not protest and neither did the 
Italians. 

There was darkness in the Italian quarters, with the 
exception of one small hut, the most remote from the 
stable, and from the small two-paned window of it, a 
faint, flickering gleam straggled through the outside 
darkness. The shack contained two small rooms, 
from the main one of which came the light, — a feeble, 
smoky oil lamp that cast sickly shadows upon the 
bare, dirty walls and floor of the interior. The room 
was a common sample of the ordinary Italian kitchen. 
There was a lamentable paucity of furniture, even of 
the most primitive kind. A fire of coal glowed in an old- 
fashioned, rusty stove, that, like a battered cripple, 
was induced to assume a proper position with the as- 
sistance of one leg and a few wooden supports, and 
was crowned with an improvised stove-pipe. From 
the bare, unpainted, wooden rafters overhead de- 
pended bunches of peppers, garlic, and various other 
herbs. The center of the room was occupied by a 
bare pine deal table, upon which was a bottle or two 
of some beverage, and a few nondescript drinking 


BOSS TOM. 


297 


vessels that, in a spirit of friendly fellowship, clustered 
around each other. 

The only living occupants of the room were three 
men, seated upon empty powder kegs and broken- 
back chairs, and apparently listening to the talk of one 
who seemed to be host. It was the home of the bach- 
elor, Tony Luccaque, and he was relating for the bene- 
fit of his guests, the results of the committee meeting 
with Gwynne, and some of the details of that affair. 

“Big Boss, him sitting by de table where him work, 
and O’Donnel, him say what we want, after the Big 
Boss ask, 'well, what you want?’ O’Donnel, him say 
what we come for, that we no go back to work 
unless they give us more pay. Maka de pay more and 
we go back, and maka de store no charge so much and 
maka de powder no cost so much and about de other 
things. Him say too, that de pay must be non per 
mese, but two times de month. Big Boss, him — ” 

The speaker was interrupted by one of his auditors*, 
who asked in a guttural, what the Big Boss was doing. 

“ Far niente. Him sit and listen and listen and all 
de time he looka mad and madder just lika him look 
when him hit me with de whip,” and Tony rubbed 
his hand tenderly over the great red welt on his face 
that Gwynne’s whip had made. “O’Donnel him looka 
mad too, and him goa like this,” and Tony brought 
down his fist upon the table in a manner that discon- 
certed, sadly, the equilibrium of the tipsy glasses. 
“Him say must have dese things or no go back to 
work. Then Big Boss, him speak.” 

The conversation was interrupted by the opening 
of the dilapidated door, and the entrance of another 
Italian of swart countenance, and of a more aged ap- 
pearance than the others, and also shorter in form. 

It was Garibal, a newcomer in the region. The 
listeners looked up with expressions of impatience. 

“Meglio tardi che mai,” said Tony, as Garibal seated 
himself upon an empty powder keg. 

“E sempre l’ora,” grunted the newcomer as he helped 


298 


BOSS TOM. 


himself to the contents of one of the bottles, and pre- 
pared to listen, assisted by the liquid refreshment. 

“Gwynne, him say notting for a minute, then him 
say him give notting; the miner get notting from him ; 
the miner, dog, him say — ” 

There was a dangerous glitter in the eyes of the 
four men who listened to this tale of Tony, and as 
Tony reached the closing part of his story, about the 
superintendent calling the miner a dog, Nic Matsque, 
a dark-eyed, villainous fellow, with a dark mustache, 
took out a long steel dagger and began to whet it upon 
his boot-leg as he listened. Niccolo was a recognized 
bad man around the mining region, and had been 
given work upon the stripping with the protest of 
Boss Tom, however, and a few others. Rumor said 
that he had killed a man somewhere or other and he 
may have been a murderer a dozen times or more 
from his criminal manner, for he scarcely looked one 
in the face, but averted his eyes. John Matsque, the 
brother of the former, though not a criminal, was one 
not to be esteemed lightly as an enemy, for there was 
generally upon his smooth, shaven features a most 
vindictive expression and, like his brother and one or 
two of the others present,, carried the ever handy 
stiletto in his boot-leg. He too, extracted a dagger 
from his boot, and rubbed it tenderly upon the leather 
as he harkened. Tony continued the description of 
Boss Gwynne’s actions toward the committee, and 
then summed up with stating - that they must not work 
until the demands were granted. 

“They can no make de company give more pay by 
no working, — must do more, — must make the com- 
pany afraid, — must burn the breaker/' said Niccolo, 
at the conclusion of Tony’s remarks. One or two of 
the others concurred in his opinion. 

“Bravo! Ben travato,” said Garibal, and added a 
string of Italian emphasizing the plan of Niccolo. 
Garibal was a comrade of the Matsque and favored 
their ideas. 


BOSS TOM. 


299 


“I no know,” said a fourth Italian, Angelo Delucca, 
and then he was silent for a moment, while the others 
waited the results of his thoughts. Angelo was a des- 
perado from Italy, with a long ill record to his name. 
Some said that the old country had been too warm 
for him in a legal way, and he had sought safer quar- 
ters in America. There was quite a difference between 
this singular, silent man, and the Matsque, and the 
others present. The Matsque and their fellows were 
short and stoutly made, and of a deep-olive complex- 
ion. Delucca was as tall and thin and tough as one 
of the bean-poles in Tony’s garden. Everything about 
him, even his eyes, were angular. His thin, yellowish, 
parchment-like face and hooked nose were surmounted 
by a pair of black eyes, that gleamed wickedly when 
angry, and sank into a dead black when thinking. 
They were that hue at the present time. At length he 
aroused himself from his thoughts and the gleam in 
his eyes returned, showing that he had reached a satis- 
factory conclusion. 

“I thinka it better killa de superintendent, de big 
boss ; that better than burna de breaker.” 

“And killa de bosses,” said Nic Matsque, falling in 
with the plan. 

“No, no,” said Tony, who, being upon the committee, 
thought that by right he ought to be the leader in 
any movement. Although peacefully disposed, he 
was not so reluctant in reference to taking vengeance 
upon Gwynne, for Gwynne had struck him, but the 
thought of killing all the bosses, as murderously pro- 
posed byNiccolo, filled him with horror for there were 
many of them whom he loved, notably Boss Tom. The 
plan of his atrocious companions was distasteful to 
him. 

“No killa de bosses.” 

“De Big Boss hit you,” sneeringly said Delucca. 

Tony instinctively rubbed delicately the welt across 
his face, but, fearing for some of his friends if such a 


300 


BOSS TOM. 


thing should be proposed, refused to give his consent 
to the plan. 

“Bene, a vostro beneplacito, burna de breaker,” said 
Niccolo, for he wished Tony’s support in what they 
did, for he well knew that Tony was the best Italian 
in the neighborhood, and had the support of his fellow 
strikers. Delucca reluctantly gave in, saying that the 
killing of the bosses could be reserved for some future 
time. 

“Burna de breaker!” exclaimed all four of the Ital- 
ians in one voice, but Tony was silent. 

“He afraid,” said John Matsque, with a sneer 
after waiting some time for an answer, and the sneer 
and exclamation was repeated by the others with the 
exception of Niccolo, who muttered to himself, nar- 
rowly watching Tony with his shifty eyes and then, 
seeing that a struggle was going on within the host’s 
breast, essayed to help him. 

“Non, Tony with the rest; Tony all right, chi tace 
acconsente. Alla vostra salute, Tonio; here’s to the 
burning de breaker!” and suiting his action to his 
words, Niccolo filled one of the tottery glasses, which 
action the others followed, and together they drank 
the beverage to the toast of “Burna de breaker. Bravo 
Tony !” 

But Tony was not carried away with the enthus- 
iasm of the others, but shook his head and shrugged 
his shoulders expressively. 

“Non, non, no burna de breaker. Old Tom, him not 
let us burn de breaker.” 

Delucca laughed a fiendish, sardonic laugh, and 
Niccolo asked, with his eyes still shifting unsteadily 
from Tony to the others, and then to the floor of the 
dirty little cabin, “Will him shoot?” 

“Non,” said Tony, shaking his head, “Tom him no 
shoot no one ; him no killa no one ; him goa like this,” 
and Tony brought down his clenched fist upon the 
table with a hard blow expressive of how Tom would 


BOSS TOM. 


301 


deal with a man in a fight. “Tom no killa, no shoot, 
him, — him knock down with the hand.” 

“Ben! Ecco!” exclaimed Delucca, with a fiendish 
look as he jerked his dagger out of his boot-leg and 
raised it over his head causing it to glisten and glitter 
in the smoky, feeble light. “Tom goa like that "and I 
goa like this,” and at the same moment down came 
the knife like a glistening sunbeam and sank with 
tremendous force into the pine deal table, where it 
remained for a moment, trembling and vibrating like 
a thing of life. The passion and action of Delucca 
was gruesome, and Tony turned from a swarthy olive 
into a sickly yellow, as he looked on the sight. The 
Matsque laughed and old Garibal chuckled. Tony 
was inflexible, however, and still maintained his posi- 
tion, saying: “Must no burn de breaker; Tom no let us. 
We get de raise in pay by no working. No burna de 
breaker; padre Tom no let us.” 

Delucca laughed again and pointed to the dagger 
still upright in the table. The meeting was coming to 
a climax. John Matsque had told Tony that a few of 
them wanted to come to his place that evening to hear 
from his own lips the results of the conference with 
Gwynne, and Tony, in his pride as a leader, had 
gladly given him the invitation to bring as many as he 
pleased. But back of all, the seeking of John Matsque 
was the confirmed agreement of his brother and Gar- 
ibal and Delucca to inveigle Tony into a scheme for 
the doing of violence to the officials and property. 
They were enraged within themselves to find that 
Tony was against all their plans. They had hoped 
that the blow that Gwynne had given Tony with the 
whip would make him ready for any adventure that 
would bring him revenge, and Tony was that much 
of an Italian to be susceptible to that passion, but he, 
though willing enough to have revenge upon the sup- 
erintendent, feared that these fiery spirits would not 
stop there and that they might injure some of his 


302 


BOSS TOM. 


friends among the bosses. Hence, his sturdy opposi- 
tion to the plans of his fellows. 

“No hurt Tom ; Tom good man and do all right by 
de men ; him good boss. If must burna de breaker, no 
hurt de padre, Tom?” said Tony, giving way slightly 
to his companions. He was anxious for the safety of 
his friend. 

“Giovine santo! ‘Tom! Tom!’ Non affronterai il 
Tomaso! Tom, il diavolo! must no hurta Tom, must 
no hurta Tom, did Tom wanta us to have work? No, 
Tom no giva us a job. We not lika Tom, and — ” 

It was John Matsque that gave vent to this burst 
of passionate words when he was interrupted by the 
words of his brother. 

“If Tom no hurta us, we no hurta him ; but if Tom 
hurta us, we killa him,” said Niccolo, and the latter 
phrase was uttered with such intensity that Tony 
knew that the threat would be carried out to the letter 
were it possible. He knew that Tom would be on 
guard at the breaker continually at night time, and he 
would not stand by idle. There was no affection 
between these men and Boss Tom, for he did not de- 
sire them to have work at Mayoton, and they had 
heard of it. The vision of the good old Boss, who had 
spoken to him kindly and encouragingly for years 
past, arose before him, slain by the knives of Delucca 
or the Matsque, and he shuddered. Even now in mind 
he could hear the echo of Tom’s kind approbation, 
“Good boy, Tony; ’ee are the best driver in the mines.” 
Would he see Tom slain? No. Elevating his head 
with new courage and zeal, he answered the words of 
Niccolo. 

“If hurta Tom, or killa Tom, — me tell.” 

His words were like pouring oil upon a fire. The 
four visitors leaped to their feet simultaneously and 
assumed a menacing attitude, advancing upon Tony 
with knives bared and ready to be sheathed in a scab- 
bard of human flesh. The old one, Garibal, a little 
slower than the others, on account of age, made up for 


BOSS TOM. 


303 


his slowness by the ferocity of his poniard, an evil 
looking knife with a blade nearly a foot long that he 
had made from a steel file. 

Tony, with horror upon his features, placed himself 
behind the table, and there were visions of blood in 
his imagination ; his courage oozed out of his finger 
ends, and his former resolution vanished like the wine 
in the bottles before these men of blood and horrible 
deeds. “No, no, I no tell ; I no tell,” came from his 
pale lips, and the men looked at each other, laughed 
devilishly, and resumed their seats upon the empty 
powder kegs. They resumed their planning and Tony 
offered no further opposition. Tony had fallen. Tony 
was no more the great man in his own estimation. 
From a leader of the strikers of the foreign element, 
he had sunk before the threats of these men and could 
do nothing to deter them from their plans. 

What plans and schemes were concocted there that 
night no one knew but Tony, who still played the part 
of host, and noticed regretfully the disappearance of 
bottle after bottle of liquid refreshment at his expense. 
The night was far spent when they arose to depart. 
They again gave him the invitation to join them but 
he sturdily refused. Delucca whispered something to 
Niccolo, and the latter with a frown, strode up to 
their quondam friend. “Tony, you tell anybody and 
me killa you, sure,” and Niccolo pointed down signif- 
icantly to his boot-leg from the top of which, like a 
viper’s head, appeared the hilt of his dagger. 

“A rivederci,” said Delucca, with a sardonic smile, 
that seemed diabolic upon his leathery, yellow coun- 
tenance. 

They left, and Tony was alone ; a sigh of relief came 
from him and yet there was dismay in his heart, and he 
was sadly perturbed in mind. Tom was a warm 
friend of his, and he loved him, and some of the others, 
as good men are loved. The night was already far 
spent and in the east was the first faint, pearly gleam 
that proclaimed the dawn. The door was once more 


304 


BOSS TOM. 


opened and in glided, like a spirit, the form of Tony’s 
sister, the wife of the screen boss, Angelo Rocci, who 
lived in the small house next door. She had noticed 
the men straggling into Tony’s house and was worried 
about Tony. Tony said nothing to her as she entered, 
but sat near the table, which was still littered with 
bottles and drinking vessels and pools of spilt liquor 
like a battlefield after a contest. 

'‘Tony,” said his sister, as she gazed at him with 
large, anxious eyes, “I no like those men ; they bad 
men; what they want?” 

“Non mi ricordo,” answered Tony, pretending an 
intoxication that was not real. 

“What they say?” 

“Non mi ricordo, I no remember.” 

Notwithstanding all the efforts of his sister to glean 
something of the doings of that night, she gained 
nothing, for to all her questions came the same answer, 
“Non mi ricordo, I no remember,” but there was 
within her heart a great fear for Tony, and she de- 
parted to consult her own husband. He too, had his 
suspicions that something was on foot to the detri- 
ment of the mines. 

“Cara sposa,” he said to his wife as he tenderly 
smoothed her black, glistening hair, and attempted to 
allay her fears, “Tony all right, no one hurt Tony and 
Tony good man and no do wrong; but the Matsque, 
and Delucca and de old Garibal, ah, dey bad men ! But 
no harm come to Tony and you must no be afraid, 
cara sposa, and about de other things, de mines,” 
Rocci made an expressive gesture of the hands and 
added, “che sara sara.” 

“Misser Dolan,” said Rocci to the breaker boss that 
morning, “you must watch four bad men ; I no know 
what dey going to do, but must watch four bad men.” 

“Who are they, Rocci?” 

“Mustn’t tella that, but dey the worst men in de 
mines.” 


BOSS TOM. 


305 


“Ye mane the Matsque, Delucca and the ould Gar- 
ibal, the ould divil !” 

Rocci made a motion of the hand that signified 
much, and Dolan was satisfied that those were the 
men or the screen boss would have said “No.” 


306 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS. 

H OW often has the attention been called to certain 
things and characters, and they have made but 
a momentary impression on the mind, a fleeting 
impression, speedily to be forgotten in the whirl and 
maze of labor, and then, how frequently some small 
occurrence has sufficed again, and with greater force 
and strength, to paint on the mind indelibly those same 
things and characters, and with a rush of memory 
there comes a vague alarm and an unsettled forebod- 
ing that is hard to shake off. 

It was thus with dark haired, honest Peter Dolan. 
Something had occurred, and he was on his way to 
interview Boss Tom. Rocci’s words had been forgot- 
ten for the time, but they were now present in his 
mind, being retouched by the things he had observed. 
In pursuance with Hoyt’s wishes, the mines had not 
been working, and the sole activity was the running 
of the pumps to keep the mines free from water. 
Dolan’s presence was not required at the breaker in 
the daytime, and it was upon a beautiful afternoon in 
October that he was wending his way past the com- 
pany stables in the direction of the store, the offices 
and Quality Row, to the home of Boss Tom. 

“Is Tom in?” he asked of Alice, who had come to 
the door to answer the rap. 

“Yes, come in, Mr. Dolan.” 

“I want to have a talk wid him, Miss Alice.” 

“He is sleeping, and is pretty well tired out. Aren’t 
you tired, Mr. Dolan, watching all night?” 

“Yes, I wish it were over. It’s work and yet it is 
no work, and very tiresome.” 


BOSS TOM. 


307 


“Just you sit down for a moment and I’ll call him.” 

Dolan sat himself down in a chair near by and Alice 
went to the foot of the stairway and called, but there 
was no answer. “I’ll run up and wake him; he sleeps 
pretty sound.” The girl disappeared up the stairway 
with light steps, and was gone for a short time. 

“He’ll be down in a moment. How is Mary?” 

“She’s pretty well, but she and Mrs. Dolan have 
their hands full. What wid being so close to the 
breaker and the fear that the Hikes and Hunks will 
burn it down, and the fear of the strikers themselves 
and the trouble wid the goats, they are having a sorry 
time of it. They are so. Are ye teaching music, Miss 
Alice?” 

“Only Nellie Penryn.” 

“A nice girl, wid her black hair and eyes. The 
Penryns are a nice family; George is a good boy. 
He and Jimmy O’Donnel are as frindly wid each 
other as yer father and meself. Did ye notice the 
papers lately?” 

“Yes.” 

“And did ye notice the items about the strike? 
What fool writers they have, and what a lot of lies 
they print. They do so. They say that the miners 
live in houses like pig-pens,” and Dolan laughed, and 
then grew a little indignant. “And did ye see the 
picters that the press artists hev been a-drawing, and 
it makes me smile, and yet makes me mad. They 
takes the picter of the house of the worst class, the 
Hunks and Hikes, and some of them are like pig-pens, 
to be sure, and then they put down underneath, ‘The 
houses of the miners that are stirring up all the divil- 
ment in the state.’ Now, why don’t they take the 
picter of your house or Phillips wid the rose vine, or 
Penryn’s wid a bit of garden in the front, tasty and 
tidy, or O’Donnel’s wid its clean front yard? The 
American miners, as a whole, have nice homes ; and 
then to think that the blatherskites say that the miners 
are a poor, ignorant, dirty set of min wid no intilli- 


308 


BOSS TOM. 


gence to spake off, and ye know, Alice, that the ma- 
jority are as intilligent as any citizens we have and 
honest, and some of thim are educated — there’s Jimmy 
and George, for instance. 

“Thin some of thim raporters would have the repub- 
lic to believe that the miner never sees the sun at all, 
that he is a sort of a human mule, barren the ears, 
a-working all the time underneath the ground. There 
were one of thim raporter chaps that come to the town 
last week and they drove him over in a close carriage 
to the breaker, and he stuck his nose out and looked 
at it, thin wrote a bit on a paper, and thin they drove 
him over to the Italian quarters and it made him 
nearly sick to set his eyes on the shanties, and thin 
he drove back to the city. I noticed his article in the 
paper yesterday and he said that Mayoton were a 
human hog-pen and the miners were creatures of a 
lower order than the human race or something like 
that, and it made me so mad that I gave the paper to 
one of the goats ; leastways I flung it at tha Billy and 
what do ye think he done?” 

Alice shook her head, laughing. 

“Well, he just smilt of it for a moment, and thin 
turned up his nose and marched on up the hill, as if 
he were insulted. They tell the truth, though, when 
they say the miners are cheated. They aren’t trated 
wid justice.” 

“No, they are not,” affirmed Alice. 

“I believe ye are a little bit of a striker yerself,” 
said Dolan. 

“Yes, my sympathies are with the strikers, but I 
don’t like a strike, for the miners never gain much 
even if they win.” 

“True, and nather does the company,” added Dolan. 

“’Ere, ’ere, whas all the clatter about down ’ere?” 
It was old Tom who had spoken, and who had come 
into the room without their noticing his presence. 

“Hallo, Tom, we were just talking about those 


BOSS TOM. 


309 


reporter chaps and the doings of thim in the papers, 
but come for a bit of a walk, I want to talk wid ye.” 

“All right,” said Tom, as he put on his hat and coat. 

Together they left the house and wended their way 
through the woods to the south of Quality Row, and 
having reached a comfortable place, sat down in the 
warm, autumnal sunshine, upon a fallen tree. There 
Dolan told Tom of the talk he had had with Rocci. 

“As I was saying, Tom, I had a talk wid Rocci, my 
screen boss, some time ago, and he was very excited. 
It was one morning of some two weeks ago whin 
Rocci come to the breaker to see me, and told me that 
I must be on the watch for four bad men. I thought 
at the time of the worst that I knew, and they were the 
Matsque, that ould yellow-skinned Delucca and the 
ould mahoun, Garibal.” 

“Bad men, all of them.” 

“And I said, ‘ye mane the Matsque, Delucca and 
Garibal/ and though he didn’t say yes, yet by his man- 
ner he as good as told me that they were the min.” 

“And did ’ee notice them much of late?” 

“Well, I didn’t think much of it at the time, and had 
almost forgotten it whin, today, I saw the whole four 
of thim come from underneath the breaker from some- 
where or other. Finn ordered thim away and they 
made off and now I have been a-thinking that, may- 
kap, they may intend to burn the breaker.” 

“They may; I was just thinking of that, and perhaps 
we ’ad better be upon our guard more than we ’ave 
been.” 

“Rocci was greatly excited and told me not to tell. 
Keep it quiet, Tom, and we’ll see what’s in the wind. 
I don’t like thim fellows.” 

“Nor I either; they are hall bad men. That one, 
Delucca, was a bad character in the old country, so 
I’m told, and I wouldn’t ’ave ’im in my slope, but 
Develry give ’im a job in the strippings. I suppose 
that he likes to ’ave men like his name under ’im,” and 
Tom smiled at his little joke. 


310 


BOSS TOM. 


The leaves of the oaks, chestnuts, and maples fell 
around them occasionally, as they talked, and carpeted 
the ground with richer and more varied texture than 
ever left the looms of the manufacturer. The great 
trees and young saplings seemed beautiful even in 
their half denuded state. 

‘‘Listen,” said Tom, as the boisterous shouts and 
noise of singing drifted to them from the distance ; 
“listen to they drunken ’Ungarians. They have been 
to the town and have filled up on bad whiskey and 
polinky. It edn’t safe for a person to be out on the 
roads, especially for a woman. That’s what strikes 
bring.” 

The singing and shouting came nearer and nearer, 
louder and louder. 

“There goes Gwynne,” said Dolan. 

They were not far enough in the woods to obscure 
the view of the public road, and Dolan made the above 
observation just as the superintendent drove rapidly 
by in his buggy. The foreigners could now also be 
seen advancing, some with unsteady steps along the 
road, linked arm in arm, kicking up a dust like the 
smoke of a battle, and singing and shouting at the top 
of their voices. Gwynne, not wishing to drive over 
them, slowed up a little but they made no effort to 
allow him to pass. 

“Come, come, get out of that!” shouted the super- 
intendent, as he arose in his buggy and made a motion 
as if to strike with his whip. A Hungarian seized the 
horse’s head, only to receive a cut over his own head 
with the whip. There was a howl of pain, and then 
mad, enraged shouts. 

“Kill him ; it is Gwynne ! Gwynne !” shouted the 
infuriated men. In an instant the air was full of flying 
sticks and stones. A short club, flung by an unknown 
hand, struck Gwynne on the head and he sank back 
and toppled out of the buggy unconscious. The horse, 
maddened by the shouts and flying missiles, and feel- 
ing no longer the restraining hand of the driver, made 


BOSS TOM. 


311 


a bolt forward, cleared the mass of men, and went 
plunging down the road. But the prize, Gwynne, was 
among them, and with mad shouts and furious cries, 
they flung themselves upon him. Their very numbers 
frustrated their purpose for a moment, and that mo- 
ment was the salvation of Gwynne, for what they 
would have done to him is hard to tell, so great was 
the hatred for Gwynne among American and foreign 
miners. The foreigners, brought up under a different 
code, were more lawless than the American and Eng- 
lish speaking element. 

“They will murder him !” exclaimed Dolan. 

“Come !” said Tom, and away they went, running 
at full speed through the underbrush, leaping over the 
fallen logs and stumps as if they were boys instead 
of men up in years. Not long did it take for them to 
reach the scene, and when they did so, they stopped 
not for parley with the half-drunken, yelling mob. 
Tom, having such implicit faith in his stout fists and 
strong arms that he always disdained the use of fire- 
arms, for the latter he generally shunned out of the 
tenderness of his own heart for humanity, — a man 
being able to recover from a blow of the fist, but fire- 
arms being dangerous to life, — shot out his arms with 
great force, each time landing upon some one in the 
crowd. Tom had been used to wrestling and boxing 
in the old country, and he had not forgotten the art. 
Dolan caught up a stick and began to wield it as 
vigorously as if he was still a boy in the old Dart, and 
the club was a choice shillelah. The crowd of blindly 
infuriated men turned with a roar from the uncon- 
scious form of Gwynne to meet their new assailants. 
Had the men been sober, it would have gone hard with 
Tom and Dolan, but they had an ally in the fiery pol- 
inky that some had imbibed. The battle raged on. 
Some that were bowled over by the stiff punches of 
Tom, and the hearty resounding whacks of Dolan 
were, for the time being, so discomfited that they 
were glad to withdraw, but this only gave renewed 


312 


BOSS TOM. 


opportunities for the others, who were enraged beyond 
measure. They were pushing Tom and Dolan to the 
woods, or rather they were giving way to gain a better 
position to contend, for to this day Dolan would never 
admit that they gave way from force before a crowd of 
“galloots like them/’ But Tom admitted that the con- 
test was going hard with him for he had received 
a cut on his head and the blood was streaming down 
in a most blinding and vexing manner, almost obscur- 
ing his vision, and he dared not wipe it away on ac- 
count of the almost constant necessity for the use of 
his arms in returning the compliments of his foes. 

Then, in the midst of the contest, there was a shout 
up the road, the gladdest sound that Tom had heard 
for quite a time, and there was a renewal of activity. 
Then came the sound of rushing feet and the hoarse 
shout of many voices, and a crowd of men, led by big 
Bill Smith, hurled themselves upon the foreigners with 
the force of catapults. There was Phillips, O’Donnel, 
Gallagher, Jones, Thomas and others, and the battle 
became general. Big Bill hurled men right and left, 
with the power of his great arms, until, dismayed by 
the terrible onslaught of these new champions, the re- 
maining foreigners fled down the road and into the 
woods on either side. 

The party, with the exception of a few scalp wounds 
and bruises, were safe enough. Dolan had received a 
badly discolored eye, and Tom, with the exception of 
the cut already mentioned, was entirely uninjured. 
Phillips had received a heavy kick in his posterior 
anatomy, and his round, sebaceous face was a bit lined 
with pain and indignation as he discoursed in no choice 
language upon the cowardice of a foe that would 
attack a man “in his most defenseless place, and it was 
all for the sake of that carrion there,” and he pointed 
with one hand to the prostrate, unconscious Gwynne, 
while he was with the other tenderly rubbing the loca- 
tion of his injury. 


BOSS TOM. 


313 


“ ’E must have been running away/’ said Tom, with 
a little humor. 

“Yes,” said Ned Thomas, “or how could he have got 
hurt like that ; that’s where the blows fall when one 
is in retreat.” 

Phillips flushed and grew more indignant. “I can 
tell ’ou that I fought as good as any one and ne’er 
turned my back.” 

“That’s so,” said Big Bill, coming to the rescue of 
Phillips, “I saw you all the time and you never turned 
your back.” 

“It was a good thing he didn’t,” said Ned dryly, “for 
if he had got that kick in front, he wouldn’t be able to 
eat any more fried cakes for a month.” 

“If the strike continues I don’t think either ’ou or 
I will have a chance to eat fried cakes long, Ned,” re- 
torted Phillips, and there was so much truth and de- 
jectedness in the reply that Ned could not answer, for 
he felt that, so far as he and Phillips were concerned, 
it was indeed true. 

“It was for the sake of Tom and Dolan that we 
fought as hard as we did,” said Jones, as he mopped 
his perspiring brow. 

“Yes, I think that if it was for the loikes of 
Gwynne alone, we would have been a bit asier and 
more considering of the foreigners’ feelings,” said 
Gallagher. 

Gwynne had not yet come back to consciousness, 
and Tom and Dolan were laboring over him, chaffing 
his hands and forehead while the men were talking. 

There was the noise of an approaching rig and then 
— “As I live, there is Gwynne’s horse and buggy, and 
Fatty is driving,” said one of the crowd. 

It was indeed Fatty, who had managed to stop the 
runaway horse, how, no one knew. 

“Is he hurt much and why, — did you all have a 
fight?” 

“It was the foreigners that stopped Gwynne and 
nearly killed him,” said Ned Thomas 


314 


BOSS TOM. 


The superintendent had gradually come back to con- 
sciousness, and, with the help of Tom and Dolan, was 
able to get into the rig and Fatty drove him home at 
a smart pace, for he was a trifle afraid of the foreigners 
that fled in that direction according to the reports of 
the men. He passed a crowd of them on the way, but 
swept by them so swiftly that they had but time to 
shake their clenched hands at them as they passed. 
The fast driving seemed to cause the wounded man 
some pain, and so when they had distanced all chances 
of opposition, Book brought the horse down to a walk 
and it was thus that they, at length, drew up to the 
home of the superintendent on the outskirts of the city. 

“Is he hurt?” asked Mrs. Gwynne, for the news had 
just been telephoned to her from the office, and she 
was very much worried. 

“Not much ; he’ll be all right with a little care,” 
answered Fatty, as he helped the superintendent 
within and saw that the stable-boy had taken charge 
of the horse. 

“He was just struck on the head with a club but 
he’ll be better in a day or so.” 

They had helped the wounded man into his study 
and, seated on a couch, Book with the assistance of 
the others was bathing the cut and relating to them 
in the meantime how he had found the superintend- 
ent, and the story he had gleaned from the men con- 
cerning the battle. 

“You had better go to bed, now, Owen, hadn’t you?” 
asked Mrs. Gwynne, anxiously. 

Gwynne, with the stubbornness of his nature, re- 
fused to think of such a thing. 

“Hark !” exclaimed Mrs. Gwynne. With the quick- 
ness of a woman, she had heard a low murmur with- 
out that had escaped the coarser ears of the men. A 
servant girl came rushing into the room, her face the 
picture of terror. 

“Oh! Mam, the whole house is surrounded with 


BOSS TOM. 


315 


those dreadful strikers and they look and — Oh ! Oh ? 
what shall we do !” 

The exclamations of the terrified girl were punctu- 
ated with two or three sounding crashes at the front 
door, as if some heavy weights had been cast at it. 
Mrs. Gwynne looked as if she were about to faint. 
Gwynne tried to rally his strength, but found himself 
too weak for the task and cast a helpless, imploring 
look at Fatty, that that worthy did not ignore. 

“I will go and see what the row is about,” said the 
doughty namesake of the great Bismarck. He gazed 
out of a corner of a window and saw a sight that might 
have made a stouter heart quake. The whole front 
of the house was filled with a howling, gesticulating 
mob of Hungarians and Italians, and near the head of 
them was a tall figure of leathery features that he rec- 
ognized as Delucca. A quick glance sufficed for him 
to see that they were not all around the house, as the 
terrified girl had stated, and back he came to the study 
with all the speed he could get up in his little rotund 
body. The mob in front composed of some of those 
who had attacked Gwynne on the highway, augmented 
by hundreds of their fellows, were content at first to 
hurl rocks and clubs at the building. Their rage, 
strange to say, was augmented against Gwynne by 
all the blows they had received from the men who had 
defended him from their violence so short a time be- 
fore. Fatty Book said afterward that in all his life, he 
had not experienced such a thrill of fear as at that 
time, when, with a few women and servants and a 
wounded man, he was in danger from a howling, un- 
reasoning mob on the outskirts of the city, removed 
from the presence of any that could give them assist- 
ance. Their cries and yells of rage and hate were 
terrifying to the parties within, and Fatty returned 
to the study just in time to allay their fear. 

“It is Mr. Gwynne that they want, and if we can get 
him safely hid the rest will not be harmed. He must 
get out and away and conceal himself.” 


316 


BOSS TOM. 


“And leave us here all alone !” almost shrieked the 
women. 

“There is no other hope for his life,” answered 
Fatty. 

There was a pause for a moment and then, again, 
the hoarse roar of the mob came to their ears. 

“Gwynne! Gwynne!” and a shower of rocks and 
clubs fell upon the housefront, and then there was 
another shower of missiles and a crash of breaking 
glass. That was sufficient for all present; not a mo- 
ment was to be lost. 

“I have a plan,” said the resourceful Fatty, “you 
people stay here and assure them that the superin- 
tendent is not in the house, and I think I can hide him. 
Come, Mr. Gwynne, you must come along with me,” 
and grasping, half carrying, the feebly resisting, 
wounded man, he got him out of the rear of the house 
and through the gardens to an old cave-in at the foot 
of the gardens, and there concealed him. 

“There, Mr. Gwynne, if you value your life, don’t 
move or budge until help comes ; your people will be 
safe, for it is you that they want and not them.” 

Gwynne could not answer. The excitement and 
the terrible experience he had been through in the 
earlier part of the day all told against him, and he lost 
consciousness. Fatty, seeing that it was best so, left 
him and returned to the house as secretly as he could. 

Meantime the mob had been battering the front 
doors with volleys of stones, and one after another 
crashed through the windows. They were getting 
exasperated at the continued resistance and were pre- 
paring to batter in the doors with a fence-rail. 

Mrs. Gwynne, summoning up her courage, boldly 
opened the door and stood upon the front veranda. 
The mob was awed for a moment by her appearance, 
and their silence gave her a chance to speak. 

“I know whom you want, but he is not here; he is 
not in the house. I will give leave to some of you to 


jmr&s 4*. 



“ I know whom you want, but he is not here.” 

w 9 

(Page 316) 




















































BOSS TOM. 


317 


come in and satisfy yourselves of the fact, and I know 
that you won’t hurt a woman.” 

She flung the door wide open. The mob hesitated 
for a moment, as it always does, when that which it 
has been striving for is granted without opposition, 
and then two or three of the foremost advanced. 

“Him not here; we find out,” and forthwith they 
entered and began searching for the man they hated. 

The mob was growing restless on the outside and 
the growling and oaths grew louder; they wanted to 
assist in the search, and at first, one by one, and then 
by twos, and then by dozens, and then by gteat 
crowds they passed through the opened doors and 
broken windows. The more ignorant of the foreigners 
gazed with awe at the costly furniture and bric-a-brac, 
and, like the Goths that entered Rome, were, with the 
exception of the dirty tracks of their coarse shoes, 
harmless at first. These palatial rooms, with their 
rich furniture, were as a heavenly wonderland to 
them, and then the novelty of the thing wore off as 
they began to rage at Gwynne. One with a sweep of 
a stick, that he held, dashed in pieces a costly bust of 
Washington. The crash had scarcely ceased, when 
it was echoed by others. It was but an indication of 
greater disaster. The wonder of the mob gave place 
to fury and a rage for destruction. Furniture was 
smashed in all directions. Not finding the object of 
their wrath, they vented their drunken spite upon the 
senseless things he owned ; they all represented 
Gwynne to their drink-besodden faculties. Valued 
pictures were ruthlessly torn from the walls and cut, 
torn, stamped upon by the great coarse boots. Laugh- 
ing, shrieking, yelling, they tore their way from apart- 
ment to apartment. It was a veritable pandemonium 
— a reign of terror. One insensate villain was de- 
lighted to play the piano, a magnificent affair of ma- 
hogany, using two clubs to thump the keys, until a 
heavier stroke than all before given, was delivered and 
the keys were broken ; then a mad fury seized him and 


318 


BOSS TOM. 

J 

what was before a little amusement to this ignorant 
vandal, became a passion for destruction and with 
mad strokes he made a heap of ruin of it. 

Up-stairs and down -stairs poured the mob, laughing, 
shouting, cursing, gesticulating, leaving wreck and 
ruin in the track of their rioting feet. Thoroughly 
convinced, at length, that the object of their search 
was not in the building they withdrew for a moment. 

“Police! Police!” yelled some one. 

It was the police at last. The mob fled at the first 
glimpse of the blue coats, and only a few of the less 
fleet footed ones were captured. Mrs. Gwynne and 
the servants continued to remain on the front veranda, 
while the building was being sacked by the mob, for 
they were safe there. They now entered and Gwynne 
soon staggered back to the house, with the assistance 
of an officer who had found him. A physician, who 
had been summoned earlier in the day, now made his 
appearance and pronounced his injuries not serious. 

While the son of Aesculapius was attending the 
wounded man, there was a noise in the rear of the 
house, and up from the cellar and through the hallway, 
came a burly blue-coat, dragging into the presence 
of Gwynne in the study, the squirming figure of Fatty 
Book. Fatty, filled with the best intentions of pro- 
tecting helpless humanity, had returned to the house 
after the concealing of Gwynne; he was going to see 
that no harm came to Mrs. Gwynne and the servants, 
but he must gain access to the building as secretly as 
possible. And so it was that he had entered the cellar, 
but there, alas for his valiant purposes, he noticed 
several barrels of a certain beverage of ancient make, 
and he could’ not resist the temptation. There was 
some truth in the adage, that man becomes what he 
eats. Fatty through constant association with kegs, 
became like them, and had an ardent affection for his 
inanimate cousins. He speedily made their acquaint- 
ance and heathenishly drank their blood. Again and 
again did he sample the contents, until sleep over- 


BOSS TOM. 


319 


came him, and he lovingly slumbered with his arms 
around one dear friend, Mr. Keg, until the officer 
found him. 

“I found him, sir,” said the officer, touching his hat 
to Gwynne, “and a most dangerous fellow he is, and 
hard to handle, a regular hang-dog from his face.” 

Poor Fatty could not have made much resistance, 
had he tried, so much had the liquor befuddled his 
brain. 

“You fool! that man is not one of the mob,” said 
Gwynne, irritably, “he is the one that drove me home 
and saved my life ; let him loose. He’s as drunk as 
a fiddler. Let the stable-boy drive him home in the 
buggy.” And Fatty was driven home in style, with 
his own hired coachman, like any “other gentleman,” 
he said. 

The revenge on Gwynne was complete. A few 
policemen were left on guard at the house, that now 
looked like an ancient castle that had gone through all 
the horrors of a siege and bombardment. 


320 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE PLOT REVEALED. 

H ALLO, George!” The speaker, just at this 
moment, saw Mrs. Penryn entering the rear 
door and accosted her. “Mrs. Penryn, is George 
home?” 

“No, he has not come home yet.” 

“Old Tom and Dolan were nearly killed, and 
Gwynne, some say, is dead. A party of foreigners met 
Gwynne in the road, and Tom and Dolan went to his 
assistance.” 

“Mercy ! what are we coming to ! and was anybody 
else hurt?” asked Molly, while Nellie came to the door 
to hear the news. 

“There were a few that got bruises. 'Big Bill and 
Gallagher were in the fight. I just heard of it and am 
going up to old Tom’s and thought George would 
like to go along.” 

Jimmy O’Donnel hurried off. Nellie ran into the 
house to get her bonnet and shawl, and then she, too, 
hastened up to see Alice, and ascertain the truth of 
the matter. She was gone but half an hour. 

“Oh, mother, they had a terrible fight down the 
road,” she exclaimed, as soon as she entered the house. 
“Gwynne was riding home and was stopped by a 
crowd of foreigners, and dragged out of’ his buggy. 
They threw a stick at him and stunned him first, and 
then they would have killed him had it not been for 
Mr. Penhall and Mr. Dolan. They saw the thing 
from the distance, and ran up, and then the foreigners 
turned upon them, and they were having a hard time 
of it until Mr. Smith and some others came up and 
then they had a general fight, and the foreigners ran. 


BOSS TOM. 


321 


and then Mr. Book took Mr. Gwynne home in his 
buggy, for he couldn’t drive himself.” 

“Well, I never; it’s as bad as war times,” exclaimed 
her mother, in dismay. 

“And that wasn’t all,” continued Nellie, her eyes 
growing large with the excitement of the news. “They 
followed the superintendent home, and the horse had 
just been put into the stable, when there was a mob 
of half a thousand foreigners and others that gathered 
around his house and threatened his life. They broke 
in the front doors, and smashed the furniture, cut the 
pictures, and destroyed the beautiful piano, — wasn’t 
it a shame — and made a wreck of the whole place 
and — ” 

“And Mr. Gwynne, did they hurt him?” 

“No, Mr. Book hid him somewhere and they were 
not able to find him, but they just ruined the whole 
house. Oh, it was terrible. Alice is afraid that they 
may hurt her father now, and perhaps break up their 
house; and they say that if these things continue, the 
soldiers may come.” 

A step was heard on the board walk, and George 
came in to supper. The events of the day were gone 
over for his benefit, and he could scarcely believe that 
they spoke the truth. It was impossible, he said, that 
the strikers would do a thing like that. That was 
just what they had been urged not to do, when they 
had organized the strike ; Father Phelan had spoken 
to the men, as did also the Rev. Mr. Hussy, the Hun- 
garian Lutheran minister, on the following Sabbath. 
The latter had particularly cautioned his members 
not to do anything that could be construed as a break- 
ing of the law, for it would damage their cause ma- 
terially. The thing must be attended to, thought 
George, or the strike would end in ignominious defeat 
for the men. He would mention it to the Organiza- 
tion the next time they had a meeting, so that no 
affair like it would happen again. He was sorry for 
Gwynne, and yet the men had been outraged by the 


322 


BOSS TOM. 


treatment they had received heretofore. He was not 
afraid for Tom or Dolan, for the anger of the people 
was mostly centered against the superintendent, yet 
he thought that it was his duty to go up to Tom’s 
place, and perhaps be of some assistance to the peo- 
ple there. He had not been up there since the begin- 
ning of the strike, and chiefly because he knew that 
Tom was cross with him about something. He had at 
first supposed that it was because he was the leader 
of the strike and of the Organization in that section, 
but now he had changed his opinion, for Tom treated 
Jimmy in the same friendly manner as heretofore, 
and Jimmy was one of the strike officers as well as 
himself. He would go up to see what he could do. 

After supper, he wended his way up to old Tom’s 
place. There was a queer sensation in his breast as 
he opened the gate and knocked at the door. There 
was the sound of footsteps within, and Alice opened 
the door, and there was a more friendly tone in her 
greeting. 

“Oh, it is you, George; come in,” she said, pleas- 
antly. 

“How is Mr. Penhall? I was anxious to hear how 
he was. There were so many conflicting rumors that 
I thought that I would come up myself, and then, I 
thought that I might be of some assistance.” 

“Just have a chair. I’m so glad that you came up, 
for we have been scared so badly, and we still feel a 
little afraid. When father came in after the fight, and 
we saw his face all covered with blood, we thought 
that he had been severely hurt, but it was only a flesh 
wound, and he had it bandaged, and he is now gone 
with some others to watch at the breaker all night. 
They are very much afraid that the strikers may 
burn the breaker.” 

“No, no, Alice, the strikers know what is to their 
best interest, and wouldn’t do a thing like that. If it 
happens, it will be by some of the ignorant, vicious 
foreigners, or some of the rough element among them. 


BOSS TOM. 


323 


I do not think that the foreigners would have hurt 
Gwynne to-day, and especially your father and Dolan, 
for they are well liked, if they were not half intoxi- 
cated and fighting drunk. You need not have any 
alarm, for the things that have been done will not be 
repeated.” 

“No, it is not the strikers that I fear, but, as you 
say, the rough, lawless element among the foreigners, 
and what we are worried about now is that some of 
them may try to get revenge upon father for the fight 
of this afternoon. Oh, George, I don’t know what I 
would do, if anything should happen to him !” and 
tears came unbidden to the eyes of Alice. There was a 
pause, for George knew not what to say or do, for the 
worry and grief of Alice was a painful thing to him. 
At length, he spoke. 

“If it would be less of a worry to you, I will get 
Jimmy O’Donnel, and we will watch together to-night 
with them at the breaker ; we can pay special attention 
to your father and see that he won’t come to any harm 
and—” 

“Oh, if you only would! I would feel much easier, 
and if you were there, they would not be so vicious,, 
for they know that you are the president of the Or- 
ganization and they wouldn’t dare to do anything that 
you — ” 

“I don’t know,” said George, shaking his head dub- 
iously; “there are some lawless spirits that neither 
fear the company, nor pay any attention to the Organ- 
ization, and they always take advantage of these times 
to perpetrate lawless doings. But I will go and get 
Jimmy, and we will watch and assist them at the 
breaker, and you may rest easy in your mind that 
nothing will occur to your father.” 

“Oh, thank you, George. But one moment, I have 
a question to ask you, and I don’t know whether I 
have the right to ask it or not. How have you disap- 
pointed father? He came home on the evening of the 
strike, and looked a little down-hearted, and when we 


324 


BOSS TOM. 


asked him what was the matter, he wouldn’t say, but 
only said that he had been disappointed in you, and he 
had thought so much of you, too. Do tell me about it.” 

“Disappointed in me !” said George, in amazement. 
“I don’t know that I have done anything to disap- 
point him. I know that he does not seem to be so 
friendly as he used to be. I know of nothing I have 
done to displease him, but to become the head of the 
strikers of this neighborhood. Your father favors the 
men, and I know he has a warm heart toward them, 
but he didn’t want to see a strike, for he thought that 
nothing but harm would come of it. He told me once 
that if I ever had any influence, I should be always 
for peace, and work, and arbitration ; that Hoyt would 
never yield to the men if they sought to force him. 
And yet, I don’t see how I have disappointed him. 
My sympathies are with the strikers, and feeling as I 
do, I could not refuse the office that was given to me.” 

“I wish it were ended. Mother can’t sleep at night. 
I don’t see why Hoyt don’t give the miners what they 
want,” said Alice, with a sigh. “The strikers have my 
sympathy, but I wish there were not so many lawless 
characters among them.” 

“Well, Alice, your father saved my father’s life, 
and gave me my education. I’m indebted to him. 
Don’t worry, now, no harm will come to him, I assure 
you. I’ll do anything for you and yours,” and there 
was a look of strong devotion in his eyes. 

“You’re kind, George,” and there was a glad, re- 
lieved expression in her countenance. 

“Good-by,” said he, and left. The young woman 
watched him as he strode away. 

“A strong, manly fellow,” she mentally said. The 
look he had given her puzzled her and there was a 
strange feeling within. The words, “I’ll do anything 
for you and yours,” rang in her ears again and again. 
“He is strong, and kind” — and then the thought of 
her father completely filled her heart. 

George betook his way back home once more, and, 


BOSS TOM. 


325 


meeting Jimmy at his father’s gate, told him of the 
plan he had in view, and that he wanted his help. 
Jimmy readily acquiesced, especially for a reason of 
his own. Mary’s home was near the breaker, and 
should the latter catch fire, nothing could save the 
home of Dolan. Yes, he would go, and willingly. 

“Old Tom saved my father’s life, and I would do 
anything for him and his, in return for the great favor 
he did at that time. You remember the time, Jimmy?” 

“Yes,” said the latter, as they hurried on toward the 
breaker. 

The electric light plant, that had been out of repair 
for a time, was now once more in good condition, and 
its lamps illuminated the great building and the dis- 
trict around about. At the breaker were collected, 
under the leadership of Moore and Finn, quite a 
number of bosses. There were Dolan, Develry, Bruice, 
old Tom and others. 

“Hello, George, you fellows came too late to burn 
the breaker,” said Moore, jokingly. 

“We have come over for just the opposite purpose; 
we came to assist in guarding the breaker to-night.” 

“Why, the strikers will oust you from the leadership, 
if you work for the company like that,” said Dolan, 
with a grin. 

“No, I guess not, for we are guarding the breaker for 
the best interests of the men. The destroying of mine 
property will not do the cause of the men any good. 
If the strike should be settled soon, and the breaker 
burnt, the men would be so much longer out of em- 
ployment. Violence, too, would cause us to lose the 
contest by taking away from us the sympathy of the 
masses.” 

“Ye nearly lost that, to-day,” said Dolan, as he 
touched his blackened eye tenderly. 

“How’s Gwynne?” asked Jimmy. 

“He’s coming on all right,” responded Moore, “but 
he had a narrow escape. It won’t take many things 
like we had this afternoon to bring the soldiers here.” 


326 


BOSS TOM. 


“And a good thing if they would come” said Bruice, 
with a smothered oath, “and then we wouldn’t be in 
danger of our lives every night.” 

The work was apportioned out to the several parties 
that were present. Finn and Bruice went up to the 
steam shovels; Develry and Moore went to the engine 
house of Number One; Boss Tom and George went to 
look after slope Number Two, while Dolan and Jimmy 
traveled thro-ugh the shadows of the dark coal breaker. 
The plan of work was to make the rounds every now 
and then, and see that no one was lurking around the 
neighborhood. Each one was to take a different route 
every time, and thus the work would not be monot- 
onous. Tom and George reached slope Number Two 
after a short walk, and found things all quiet. 

“I doant like to leave only Jimmy and Dolan at the 
breaker,” said Tom, as they came to the engine house. 
“Two men aren’t enough to guard that.” 

“I hardly think that any will dare to burn the 
breaker,” said George. 

“I doant knaw,” responded Tom, and there was a 
trace of a little sadness in his tone. “I ’ave been dis- 
appointed so badly in so many that I think are all 
right, that I lose my faith in men at times.” 

George was about to reply, when the boss inter- 
rupted him by requesting him to go into the engine 
room while he investigated the boiler house. They 
were both gone for quite a time, and then emerged, 
satisfied that all was right. 

“No one will set fire to this,” said George. 

“We ’ave orders to watch all. Les go down this 
way, and we will reach the breaker from the west,” 
said Tom, and he strode on ahead. The boss with his 
bandaged head looked strange in the dark night. 

“I am sorry that we left Dolan and Jimmy down 
there all alone.” 

They had traversed half the distance, when foot- 
steps, coming from the rear, were heard. 


BOSS TOM. 


327 


“Listen !” said George, as he grasped Tom’s arm 
and they both paused. 

The night, now fairly advanced, was dark and star- 
less. Clouds obscured the face of the heavens, and 
there was a slight wind rising and sweeping through 
the trees of the hills, with a soughing and melancholy 
sound. The footsteps came nearer and nearer, and 
through the gloom of night emerged four figures. 
Apparently they did not see Tom or George, for they 
passed near by, conversing in low tones. 

“They are the Matsque, and the other two I didn’t 
recognize. Do ’ee knaw who they were?” 

“Delucca and Garibal. They are all bad men. The 
strike receives no credit for having men like them to 
support it,” responded George. 

“They are going up towards the breaker. We’ll 
follow them. George, lad, hast a revolver?” 

“No.” 

“ ’Ere, then, take mine ; I’m not used to handling 
firearms, anyway. I’d rather give a man a skevern on 
the nuddick than to shut un. Doant ’ee use that there 
gun, George, unless ’ee ’ave to use un, and then doant 
’ee shut to kill, but shut to scare un ; or if that won’t 
do, then shut to ’it them in the legs. And, mind ’ee, 
my lad, doant ’ee get hurt thyself.” 

George smiled at Tom’s directions, but took the 
revolver, and they hastened up the railroad after the 
men. On went the men, and on the pursuers. It was 
the most exciting chase that George had ever known. 
The dark night, the excitement, the danger, all had 
a fascination for him. 

“They are stopping.” It was George’s keen ears 
that had noticed the ceasing of the footsteps ahead. 

“Well, carry the revolver where they can see un and 
that will scare them a bit.” 

Tom and George pushed steadily onward toward the 
breaker, and after the Italians. There was a momen- 
tary pause in the progress of the dark figures ahead, 
and then they disappeared from the track. 


328 


BOSS TOM. 


“They are leaving the railroad, and going in the 
direction of the Beach mines/’ whispered George. 

“They can’t do us any ’arm there.” 

Tom and George continued their walk until they 
came into the shadows of the breaker, and the light 
of the arc lamps, beyond. 

“All right, Peter?” asked Tom. 

“All right, Tom,” came the voice of Peter, from a 
distance. 

“Come here.” 

Dolan and Jimmy came forward, and Tom told them 
what they had seen on the railroad, approaching the 
breaker from the west. 

“And ye saw thim coming toward the breaker, and 
thin they went toward the Beach mines? They can’t 
harm us if they keep on in that direction. But then, 
they may turn.” 

“Their going in that direction was only a ruse to 
deceive us,” said George. 

“And ye were sure it were the Matsque, Delucca, 
and that fellow, Garibal?” 

“The same.” 

“Tom, it looks bad, it does so.” 

“Bad gang.” 

Finn and several of the bosses, who had made their 
rounds, were now seen approaching in the distance, 
and soon drew near. They reported all quiet in their 
districts, and Tom told the assistant superintendent, 
Moore, what he and George had seen, coming back 
to the breaker from the west. 

“That’s bad,” said Moore, and then, casting his eyes 
upon George and Jimmy, he asked, “Have you two got 
revolvers ?” 

There was a negative response, for George had 
pressed back into Tom’s reluctant hand his revolver, 
after they had reached the breaker. 

“Finn, where are you?” exclaimed Moore. 

“Here,” said Finn, from the rear. 

“Give Jimmy and George a weapon apiece, they 


BOSS TOM. 


329 


may need them.” Finn handed over two extra re- 
volvers that he had in his possession, and the new 
recruits were as well armed as the others. 

“Now, boys,” said Moore, “Mike and I will go up 
to the shovels, and the engine house of the strippings. 
Finn, you and Bruice go to Number Two slope, and 
the rest of you watch here. We’ll come back as 
quickly as we can. If any one intends to burn the 
breaker, they will attempt it when we are scattered.” 

“Suppose they come before you come back?” said 
George. 

“Fire twice,” said Moore, “and that will be a signal 
for us.” 

The men departed on their separate errands, and 
Tom and Dolan deliberated how they could best watch 
the breaker. 

“What time do ’ee have, Dolan?” 

Dolan took out his timepiece, and by the light of 
the arc lamps made out the hour to be near one 
o’clock. 

“Now, Peter,” said Tom, “suppose you take the 
north of the breaker ; George, you take the south ; 
Jimmy, you take the west, and I’ll take the east; and, 
mind, will ’ee, to conceal yourselves where ’ee can see 
everything on your side. Look sharp, lads.” 

They all took their respective stations, and an hour 
passed by without anything happening to mar the 
peace of the neighborhood. There was no trouble in 
the watchers concealing themselves. The north was 
crowded with cars, as it was the place where the ship- 
ping was done. The car shops and electric plant was 
on the south, the brass foundry and one or two small 
buildings on the east, while toward the west was the 
railroad and brush land. The watching was becoming 
tiresome. All of a sudden, the electric light on the 
south began to sputter and gibber, and become dim- 
mer, and for the space of a minute or so everything 
was pitchy dark, and then the light came on again as 
bright as ever, and illuminating the railroad for a few 


330 


BOSS TOM. 


yards west of the breaker, revealed the figures of 
Bruice and the lengthy Finn, approaching. They had 
made their rounds of Number Two, and were re- 
turning. 

“All right?” asked Finn. 

“Yes.” It was Jimmy who had spoken. 

“Well, you and George go through the breaker, and 
Bruice and I will take your places until you return.” 

Jimmy found George, and together they set forth. 
Every corner, and cranny, and crevice, and apart- 
ment, from top to bottom, was thoroughly investi- 
gated by the hardy climbers. Up into the wind-swept 
top they climbed. “All safe here,” said George. 
Together they clambered down to the bottom and re- 
ported all safe within. 

In the meantime, Moore and Develry returned 
from the strippings, and reported all safe in their 
direction. 

“All right,” said Moore, cheerfully, “and now one 
more round and that will be the last one, for by that 
time it will be day-light and we can go home. I don’t 
think that there will be any attempt to-night.” 

The same men remained at the breaker as formerly, 
with the exception of a change of position. Old Tom 
had the south, and Dolan the west, while George had 
the east, and Jimmy the north, respectively. Fifteen 
minutes passed away in silence, and then the lights of 
the electric plant went out suddenly, as if they had 
been hidden in empty barrels, as at the time of blast- 
ing, and there was darkness, Egyptian darkness, over 
the whole place. Tom, who was on that side, gazed 
anxiously toward the light plant, and at first could not 
see anything, for the change from light to darkness 
was so sudden. At length, as his eyes became more 
accustomed to the gloom, he leaped to his feet in sur- 
prise. Four figures were stealing past him. 

“ ’Alt there ! ’Old up, I say,” and he flourished the 
revolver he had high in the air, and then fired it off 
twice as a signal to the others. 


BOSS TOM. 


331 


Having given the signal, Tom thought no more of 
the revolver, but closed in on the men almost single- 
handed. So accustomed to wrestling and boxing was 
he, that he paused not to think of his weapon. Then, 
too, he had always a horror of injuring one for life, 
perhaps killing one with a bullet. He had always 
trusted with the most implicit faith to his own stout 
arms and shoulders. This time it was almost fatal to 
him, for it was Delucca that he had seized, who, with 
an oath, turned upon him with the agility of a cat 
and with the ferocity of a tiger, and together they 
strove and wrestled, while the other three figures as 
silently and cautiously crept forward into the breaker. 

Delucca, tough and wiry as he was, was no match 
for the stout old boss ; the strength and experience of 
former battles was in Tom’s favor, and the “Yaller 
skinned Pole,” as Tom afterwards called him, was 
rapidly being overcome, when the shouts of oncoming 
rescuers were heard in the distance, and the hurried 
tread of feet. Delucca, with another savage Italian 
oath, freed his arm for a moment, and there flashed in 
the darkness a bright streak of steel, but it found not 
the mark that the owner wished, for there was a rush 
of a dark body, and a hand seized the gleaming wea- 
pon and wrenched it from his grasp. It was George 
who had come just in time. The dagger had sadly 
cut and damaged his hand, and he gave attention to it 
for a moment, for the writhing, twisting forms of Tom 
and the would-be assassin had removed themselves 
from him in the after conflict. The old boss was en- 
raged, not only by the attempt of Delucca on his 
life, but at the momentary sight of blood streaming 
from the hand of George. With a cute wrestling trick, 
learned in the old Dart, he grasped the wrist of the 
villain with a crushing grip, and with the other hand 
encircled his bony knee, and then there was a mo- 
mentary tug; the seasoned muscles of old Tom, his 
back bent almost in a curve, were used to their utmost 
strength, and then there was a heave, and the form 


332 


BOSS TOM. 


of Delucca was seen, darker than the surrounding 
night, flying up through the air over the old boss’ 
shoulders. There was one wild shriek, and then a 
resounding crash, and Delucca, the bad man of May- 
oton, was lying, limply unconscious, upon a pile of 
ties by a railroad siding. Dolan, Jimmy, Finn, and 
the others were all upon the scene in a minute or two 
after Delucca went down. 

“Are ye hurt, Tom?*’ asked Dolan. 

“The breaker!” shouted Tom, “three of them slipped 
up that way while I was entangled with that rogue.” 

Leaving a man or two in charge of Delucca, they 
hurried with all possible speed to the breaker, in the 
direction Tom said the men had followed. They were 
too late. As they drew near, three dark forms fled 
rapidly in the opposite direction. Finn and the others, 
with the exception of Boss Tom, fired a perfect hail of 
bullets after them, and one of them was evidently hurt, 
but it didn’t hinder his progress much. Flames were 
seen just at the same moment issuing from the base, 
and also the top of the great breaker structure. 

Dolan blew the whistle, and its deep roar was aug- 
mented by the darkness of the night, and sent a quiver 
of alarm through the sleeping residents of Mayoton. 
Moore, old Tom, and the others set to with a will to 
extinguish the flames. Finn turned his attention to 
securing the injured Delucca. That person was slowly 
recovering consciousness. He was cut, bruised, and 
shaken up badly, and when Finn came to place the 
handcuffs upon him, he found that the wrist that Tom 
had seized was broken by the powerful grasp of the 
boss in that last throw. He took him to the electric 
house, where was found, stretched out, with a dread- 
ful wound in his scalp, the injured engineer, Bud 
Burdey. The secret of the sudden darkness was out. 
Bud feebly told his tale. When he was oiling the ma- 
chinery, he heard a step behind him and turned just in 
time to receive a blow on the head that stunned him. 
The miscreants had broken the machinery with a 


BOSS TOM. 


333 


sledge. Finn bound the prisoner tightly and set one 
of the men who had been guarding him at the pile 
of ties, to watch over him in the electric light house; 
the other guard assisted the wounded Burdey to his 
home, and Finn returned to the breaker to render 
what assistance he could in extinguishing the fire. 

The fire was stubbornly aggressive, and for a time, 
it appeared that none of the efforts made would be of 
any avail in quenching the flames that roared, and 
sizzled, and hissed, and cracked below and above. 
From the first appearance of the flames, they seemed 
to make startling progress as if trains of oil and com- 
bustible materials had been prepared beforehand. A 
bucket brigade was formed and then, as half-dressed 
miners came upon the scene, new brigades were or- 
ganized, and a steady emptying of the buckets had its 
desired effect in time. The flames below were gradu- 
ally brought under control. It was in the top of the 
breaker, however, where the greatest danger mani- 
fested itself; there, fanned by the breeze of the night, 
catching every breath of the upper and less restricted 
air, the fire raged fiercely, licking greedily with 
scorching tongues the coal-blackened timbers. They 
needed no electric light to illuminate the darkness 
now, for the sky was painted in glowing hues seen for 
miles, and thousands of sparks disseminated them- 
selves over the surface of heaven, falling, at length, 
like the stars of multitudes of rockets on a fourth of 
July night. 

The citizens of Mayoton, young and old, male and 
female, in various nondescript garbs, were anxiously 
watching, some from a safe distance, while the more 
able-bodied formed new brigades and trained their 
concentrated effort upon the flames. Even the women 
were anxious to assist. Strikers and bosses and others 
worked side by side with but a single thought. The 
harmony was inspiring. Old Tom cheered on his men. 
A long line of toiling figures was soon stretched from 
the base to the location of the flames, and bucket after 


334 


BOSS TOM. 


bucket was passed rapidly on in the upward course. 
Mike Clyde now appeared; he had gotten one of the 
smaller pumps running and a line of hose attached 
and, with the assistance of others, it was conveyed up 
and up until a steady, though small stream was pour- 
ing upon the fire constantly. The whistle, the bull of 
the mountains, that had been belching its thunderous 
roar since the beginning of the incendiarism, now 
ceased, as it drowned the quick orders of those in au- 
thority. 

The strikers, who were assisting, were loud in their 
denunciations of the rogues that had perpetrated the 
deed. It damaged their cause, rather than benefited 
them, and there were many angry expressions and 
maledictions heaped on the heads of those who had 
attempted the life of Tom, and injured the leader of 
the Organization. The story of how George had saved 
Tom’s life, at the expense of personal injury to him- 
self, was now known to all. But where was George? 
He was not to be found. For a time he was near the 
breaker, assisting as he was able and, then seeing 
that there were enough without him, he thought it 
expedient to attend to the wound he had received. 
He had started off, when on the outskirts of the crowd, 
he had seen approaching him a figure he knew. It was 
Alice Penhall. Like others, she too had hastened to 
the scene, and in the hurry and haste had not clothed 
herself with due ceremony. She had, at the first roar 
of the great whistle, flung on a wrapper, and with a 
heavy shawl over this, essayed forth. The glowing 
rich ringlets, generally so decorously arranged, es- 
caped from the folds of the shawl o’er her head, and in 
riotous, glorious confusion, had leaped and danced 
around her ears and forehead. The light of the flames 
on high lit up her countenance with a new beauty. 
George thought that he had never seen her so beautiful 
before. 

“Why, Alice !” 

“Oh, George, has anything occurred to father ?” 


BOSS TOM. 


335 


“Safe and hearty.” 

“Why, you are hurt, and oh, what a cruel wound! 
Come over to Mary’s and let me bind it up.” 

George, a willing slave, followed to the house of 
Dolan. Dolan and his people were without, like 
others of the community, and the lower part of the 
house was empty. 

“It does not matter,” said Alice, “we will find some- 
thing to bind up that terrible cut,” and she searched, 
but the effort was unavailing. With a bright thought, 
she tore from around her neck a silk neckkerchief. 

“This is the very thing, and none too good for the 
purpose of the man who saved dear father’s life.” 

In the conversation, she had wrung from George, 
by a woman’s wiles, the story of the cut. George felt 
like a hero under her words of praise, and feasted his 
eyes upon her lovely countenance, made more pictur- 
esque by those escaping ringlets, with the greed of 
a devotion long burning. Here, he thought, was a 
woman to live and die for, this affectionate, solicitous, 
tenderly sympathetic girl. Face Delucca! He could 
have faced the whole four of the murderous rascals 
for an after occurrence like this. 

“You are my hero, George ; you are brave and cour- 
ageous, and father can never say that he is disap- 
pointed in you now. To think that you saved his life 
at the expense of your own injury!” and there were 
tears of gladness glistening and sparkling upon her 
eye-lashes. 

How long the time was that was spent in the bind- 
ing up of that wound was not known, for the conver- 
sation was unabated until, right in the midst of it, 
in came Dolan, and Mary, and his wife. 

“Well, I never thought of house breakers and here 
they are.” 

“The fire, is it out?” asked George, blushing con- 
fusedly. 

“They are dousing the last sparks,” said Dolan. 


336 


BOSS TOM. 


“Why, it’s morning!” exclaimed Alice, and sure 
enough, there was grey twilight in the east. The dawn 
had come at last. “I must go home right away, for 
they will be worrying about me,” continued the girl, 
and, notwithstanding all remonstrances, she started 
forth, accompanied by George. That walk in the grey 
light of the early day was replete with joyousness for 
the leader of the Mayoton Organization. He had re- 
deemed himself in Tom’s eyes, and he could no longer 
be disappointed in him, no matter what that disap- 
pointment was, and as for Alice, ah! Alice! was he not 
her hero? 


BOSS TOM. 


337 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE WIDOW McGLYN. 

I T WAS some time after the attempt to burn the 
breaker, and the strike slowly dragged on, the dead- 
lock unbroken. Carpenters had been at work, re- 
pairing the damages to the breaker and, with the ex- 
ception of a charred timber here and there, the big 
building was soon in its former state. The nefarious 
attack upon Gwynne and the attempted incendiarism 
had the effect of making the authorities firmer than 
ever in resisting the demands of the men. There was 
one ameliorating circumstance ; the assistance the 
strikers gave the company in quenching the breaker 
fire went a long way in settling the strike — for Hoyt’s 
heart was softened toward them by this benefit they 
had conferred upon him, and the rancor that the at- 
tempt to force him to terms had stirred up in his 
breast had become mitigated. But still the strike 
dragged on its weary existence. 

What that sage woman, Molly Penryn, had fore- 
told, was true. The Organization did not give to the 
strikers all the assistance they had expected, and there 
was suffering and privation among some that was 
truly deplorable. Some, like the Penryn family, had 
sufficient laid by at the beginning of the strike, to 
see them comfortably through, but others had an ar- 
duous time trying to beat the wolf from the door. 
Among the latter, perhaps there was none in the po- 
sition of the Widow McGlyn. Her husband had been 
killed in Number Two slope a few years before, by a 
fall of top rock, and from that time on, the poor widow 
had managed, with the assistance of her two boys, to 
keep the little household together. Both lads, who 


338 


BOSS TOM. 


were just in their teens, had secured work in the 
breaker, picking slate, and upon the meagre earnings 
of these two boys, the family had eked out a scanty 
subsistence thus far. Their home was in the row of 
houses near the breaker and the farthest from the pub- 
lic road. The interior, though poor, still had some 
of the comfortable furnishings that were theirs in the 
palmy days when Patrick McGlyn was alive. The 
furnishings now showed signs of much wear ; the 
carpet had been so darned and patched that it would 
have taken a genius to ascertain what was the original 
color and material ; the shades at the windows were 
ragged and full of holes, and poverty, poverty, was 
written everywhere. The children had been for years 
living advertisements for the second-hand clothing 
store in the nearby city. Beside James and Edward, 
the bread winners, there were two other children that 
made up the family — Patrick Jr., a little lad of six 
years, and Rosie, a girl of three, who had never seen 
her father’s face. They had a little money when the 
strike had started, but that had all vanished. The 
Organization had given them one bag of flour, but 
one bag would not last forever ; the days of the 
widow’s cruse of oil and handful of meal belonged to 
other periods than the twentieth century. The last 
crust of bread had been eagerly devoured by the chil- 
dren on the day previous, the widow, mother-like, 
preferring rather to see the children have something 
than herself. There had been a few things planted in 
the garden, but they had all been utilized in the times 
preceding. In her despair, the widow had made a 
last plea to the committee of supplies, but they had 
told her that she must wait a day or so, for the coming 
in of more finances. 

Black want stared her in the face; where the next 
meal was to come from, she knew not. There was no 
money with which to buy, and there was no credit to 
be obtained anywhere, for the company store had 
ceased to sell without the cash, now the men were not 


BOSS TOM. 


339 


working. Rosie, red-cheeked Rosie, though fully mer- 
iting the name before the strike began, was now pale 
and wan, and the other children showed by their thin 
faces and peeked appearance how sadly they lacked 
proper food. 

They were all assembled in the kitchen, the mother 
having searched for the third time through cellar and 
pantry for the slightest crust that could have been 
possibly overlooked in former explorations, but to no 
avail, and she now was seated with the stony face that 
despair brings. They had come to the verge of starv- 
ation, but they were too proud to beg. Beg, — she 
shuddered at the thought, and yet what could be done? 
There was not the smallest employment that she or 
her boys could procure. She could send the boys to 
the districts far remote from home to beg, but she 
would sink under the humiliation. Ah, if these men, 
the originators of the strike, would only think of the 
hardship they were causing by this struggle, they 
would soon make it cease. The operator and the men 
were equally wrong to bring such distress as that 
which they had been suffering upon any one. What 
right had they to declare a strike for the sake of a few 
dollars? Oh! If Hoyt only knew! His little ones 
were not starving for food, ah, they had plenty. Why, 
she thought, could not Hoyt give the miners what 
they asked, or why couldn’t the men go to work and 
end all this? It’s hard to see the little ones cry for 
bread. As she realized more fully the hopelessness of 
th'eir position, she threw her tattered apron over her 
head and began to weep softly to herself. Rosie came 
up to her and half pulling the apron from her eyes, 
exclaimed : 

“Oh, mamma cy! ’ou sick, mamma; I kiss ’ou and 
make ’ou better,” and the little one drew her mother’s 
toil-worn hand to her and clasping it in her baby fist, 
kissed it tenderly. “Don’t cy, mamma !” 

The mother picked up the little one and pressed her 


340 


BOSS TOM. 


to her bosom, and began to sob afresh. “Oh, what 
shall I do?” she moaned. 

Little Patty also drew near, moved by different 
feelings, and gazed at his mother with great question- 
ing eyes. “Mamma, why don’t you bake bread? I’m 
hungry, mamma,” and receiving no answer, he began 
pulling her dress to draw her attention to himself. 

The widow made no answer. What answer could 
she make? She still wept over Rosie, and the lad 
continued to ask his question. “Mamma, you used 
to bake bread. Why don’t you bake bread now? I’m 
hungry and Rosie’s hungry, too. Bake some bread, 
mamma.” 

“We don’t have any flour, and can’t have any bread,” 
said the mother, constrained to answer by his impor- 
tunate questioning. 

“And won’t we ever have bread?” asked the little 
lad, his eyes growing bigger and bigger with awe, as 
something of the situation began to dawn upon his 
childish mind. There was no answer, and again the 
child asked the question, “And won’t we ever have 
bread, mamma?” 

“God knows, my child; I don’t know,” and then 
again came the sound of weeping, of grief and despair. 
Rachel was weeping for her children, not because they 
were not, but because they were suffering and starv- 
ing for the bread that perisheth and all because of 
human rapacity and greed for gain, upon the part of 
those who had enough of earth’s goods. 

“Don’t you cry, now,” said the eldest, as he put his 
arms around her, “I’m going'out into the garden and 
see if I can’t find a pertatie or two that we missed 
when we dug them up the last time,” and the eldest, 
followed by his brother, went out into the garden 
and began turning over the soil of the potato patch. 

“There’s one, Jimmy ; and oh, what a big one, too !” 

To their delight a large potato had been turned up 
that had evidently escaped the spade heretofore. With 
a glad exclamation they brought it into the house and 


BOSS TOM. 


341 


the mother’s eyes brightened a little at the sight, and 
Rosie and Patty clapped their hands gleefully. 

“Ye can cook it for Rosie and Patty, and we will go 
out and see if we can’t find another wan fer us,” said 
the eldest, as he laid the potato on the table and again 
went into the garden to resume his spading. But 
none of his subsequent efforts were similarly rewarded 
that afternoon. 

That potato, how should it be cooked? Not a bit 
of the precious substance was to be lost. “We will 
cook it with the skin on and you and Rosie can watch 
it,” said the mother. The potato was placed in the hot 
ashes of the fender, and Rosie and Patty, as they sat 
on the floor, watched it with supreme interest, and 
almost forgot their hunger in the fascinating work. 

“I think he’s cracking, mamma,” said Patty, at 
length, as a small report from the roasting vegetable 
was heard. 

“He’s nearly done, Rosie,” continued Patty, encour- 
agingly. 

“ ’Es,” said Rosie, as her mouth watered in the ex- 
pectation of the coming feast. The mother raked the 
cooked potato from the embers and placed it upon the 
table and divided it equally. The white mealy interior 
and hot, fragrant odor was as welcome to their hungry 
little palates as the most delectable banquet of Del- 
monico. The mother sat near by and watched them 
with a sad relief, and all the while hunger was gnaw- 
ing viciously within her own frame. Potato skin, 
and all, rapidly disappeared before the onslaughts of 
those small mouths. Indeed they could have eaten 
anything, for they had not tasted anything since the 
day before. The mother arose, at length, bathed her 
eyes in water, put on a clean apron and sunbonnet. 

“Jimmy, you can watch the children until I come 
back,” she said, and withdrew from the house as if 
filled with a new resolution. The potato had just 
whetted the appetite of Rosie and little Patty, and 


342 


BOSS TOM. 


made the dull clamoring of hunger but more ap- 
parent. 

“Ah, now, Rosie, hush yer crying, now, fer we’ll get 
something by and by,” said Eddie to the little girl, 
who had began to cry for more. 

“And do you think, now, Eddie, that we won’t have 
any bread ever in the house at all now?” said Patty, 
with an expression of alarm upon his narrow, pinched 
features. 

“Yes,” said Jimmy, with a reassuring nod, “we’ll 
get bread, by and by. I was just a-thinking of going 
over into the farming country, and working for the 
farmers, and taking me pay in bread, and then we 
could have plenty of bread in the house.” 

“It’s a wonder that we niver thought of that,” said 
Eddie, attracted by the glowing plan of his brother, 
“and do ye think that ye are big enough to work upon 
a farm?” 

“Big enough !” said Jimmy, with an expression of 
indignation, “to be sure I am,” and he drew up his 
thin little form to its utmost height, while the other 
children looked on in admiration and pride. 

“Do ye think, now, that I would be big enough?” 
asked Eddie, to which query Jimmy dubiously shook 
his head, at which the questioner’s face fell percept- 
ibly. 

“What would yer do on a farm?” 

“I would carry water for the fellows that’s working,” 
said Eddie, brightening up. 

“So yer could,” assented Jimmy. 

“We’ll see mamma, when she comes back, and then 
we can go,” added Jimmy. 

“I tell ye what I could do, and we could get some- 
thing to eat right away,” said little Patty, with some 
animation in his tone. 

“Ought?” asked little Rosie, eagerly, for the pros- 
pect of having something to eat right away was a 
better thing to contemplate than an indefinite thing 


BOSS TOM. 


343 


in the future, in the shape of bread obtained by work- 
ing upon a farm. 

“Why,” said Patty, enthusiastically, “I was over to 
Dolan’s to-day and they had a big pail of carrot-tops, 
and things outside the'house, and it looked like they 
were going to throw it all away — ” 

“Huh, that was pig’s feed,” said Jimmy in some 
disgust. 

“I don’t care, the carrot-tops looked good, and were 
cooked too, and there was a big crust of bread on the 
top, and I believe that we could git ’em without any 
wan knowing it, if we would go over there to-night: 
now, couldn’t we?” 

“Oh, ’es,” said Rosie. 

“No,” said Jimmy, authoritatively, although he 
thought within himself that something must be done 
soon or he would steal those carrot-tops himself. How 
true is the saying that even in the same community, 
one half knows not how the other half lives. Hunger 
is most impatient in its demands when there seems 
no way to gratify it. It took some resolution in Jimmy 
to say no, but he knew that his mother would dis- 
approve of the humiliation of the thing young Patty 
proposed. Rosie began to cry as Jimmy put this 
damper upon Patty’s proposed expedition, and Patty 
put his arms around her and comforted her with the 
glowing promise of getting them that night, when 
Jimmy wouldn’t be around. 

“Never ye mind, Rosie,” he whispered, “don’t ye 
cry, now, I’ll get ’em when it gits dark, and you 
shall have the big crust all fer yerself, now.” 

In the meantime, Mrs. McGlyn had gone to the 
home of Peter Dolan. It was humiliating, but she 
must do it or the children would starve. 

“And how are you to-day, Mrs. McGlyn?” asked 
Mary, as she gave the widow a seat in the kitchen. 

“I’m not very well, Mary,” said the widow, as she 
sank into the chair, and indeed she looked the same, 
and with reason, as the poor creature had not had a 


344 


BOSS TOM. 


thing to eat for twenty-four hours, and had half 
starved herself before that, to give more to her chil- 
dren. There were great circles around her eyes and an 
emaciated look in her countenance. 

“Why, how is that? Where do you feel sick?” 

Overcome by the sympathetic tone of Mary, the 
widow could not restrain her tears, and she told her 
wondering auditor of how they had been upon the 
verge of starvation for the past few days, of how she 
herself had not a thing to eat for four and twenty 
hours, and that there wasn’t a thing in the house to 
give the little ones. The widow’s sobs and tale almost 
broke the heart of Mary, and with tears in her eyes, 
she instantly went to the pantry and cut a large piece 
of pie and poured out a cup of hot coffee for her at the 
table. 

“Now, do sit up and eat something.” 

But Mrs. McGlyn, with the true spirit of a mother, 
refused to partake of anything when her children were 
suffering at home, and would not touch anything until 
she saw Mary packing a basket to carry over to the 
little ones. 

There was a jubilee in the widow’s home that night. 
Little Rosie and Patty danced around Mary with de- 
light as the basket was being unpacked, and kissed 
her again and again. The fire was replenished and 
Mary made coffee, the first coffee that had been 
tasted in that home for a week or two, and then the 
table was set and Mary waited upon the little ones 
with her own hands. The mother alternately smiled 
and cried for joy and gladness. 

“This is better than carrot-tops,” said Patty, to 
which Rosie gravely answered, “ ’Es.” 

Mary told her father and mother that night when 
she had returned, of the distress of the McGlyns. 

“The divil !” said Dolan, in some astonishment, 
“why didn’t she tell us before?” 

“She’s a little sensitive about telling her circum- 
stances, and she’s too proud to beg,” answered Mary. 


BOSS TOM. 


345 


“Starving! starving !” muttered Dolan, in half- 
audible tones, as he marched up and down the room, 
in some excitement, “and Pat McGlyn was me frind, 
and we were here ating and drinking as if there were 
full and plenty everywhere. The divil ! How much 
flour have we in our pantry ?” This last question was 
asked of his wife, but he paused not for an answer, but 
went to the pantry to ascertain for himself. He soon 
emerged with a half a sack of flour upon his back. 

“Peter, do you know that that flour is the last that 
we have in the house, and we must bake to-morrow 
morning,” said his wife, in some anxiety. 

“I don’t care,” said Peter, stoutly, as he was going 
out of the door, “this flour goes to the widow McGlyn 
and as fer the loikes av us, we can ate garden truck 
fer a time, as well as the goats. We can so. Starving!” 
and the door shut to behind him with a bang. 


346 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A CHANGE IN BOSS TOM’S OPINIONS. 

I T WAS upon the following afternoon that Mary 
Dolan was upon her way home from school after 
the day’s work was over, and, seeing Alice at the 
front window of the Penhall home, stopped to have a 
minute’s chat. Alice was busily engaged in doing 
some fancy work that had interested her ever since the 
attempted burning of the breaker. 

“Why, what are you making? You have been busy at 
that for quite a time, and you haven’t told me yet who 
it is for, or what it is going to be.” 

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” said Alice, as she held it up for 
the admiring inspection of her friend. “It’s going to 
be a collar-box when it is finished, and this is to be the 
lining, and it’s going to be for a Christmas present 
for George Penryn.” 

“Oh, I understand,” said Mary, smiling mischie- 
vously. 

“No, you don’t,” said Alice, and at the same time 
growing a trifle red ; “I think that he ought to have 
something to show him that we appreciate the kind- 
ness that he did in saving father’s life, when that 
villain — ugh” — she shivered at the thought, — “was 
going to hurt father, and so I am making him this.” 

Mary eyed her suspiciously, and then said, “George 
is a nice young man.” 

“Yes, and father was disappointed in him for some 
reason or other, and he knows it. I don’t know what 
the affair was, but that favor of George’s deserves rec- 
ognition.” 

“It does,” said Mary, warmly, and there was a light 
in her eyes, as if she understood something else. 


BOSS TOM. 


347 


"George is a nice young man/’ she added, and then 
paused, and she thought of the occurrence of the night 
before. "Oh, Alice, what do you think, that poor 
Widow McGlyn didn’t have a thing to eat for twenty- 
four hours, and she and her children had been half 
starved for weeks, and we didn’t know a thing about 
it,” and Mary poured into the sympathetic ears of 
Alice, the story of the suffering of the McGlyn family. 
Alice could not refrain from crying, and Tom, coming 
into the room, also heard the story, and there was a 
suspicious moisture gathered in his eyes ; then as 
Mary finished, Tom grabbed his hat, set it firmly upon 
his head and walked out the door. 

"Here, Tom, supper will be ready in a few minutes 
and you doant want to go away far,” called Mrs. Pen- 
hall after him, but Tom didn’t answer, for he could not ; 
there was a choked feeling in his throat that forbade 
reply. Up the street he took his. way toward the store. 

"Do you think that you can keep a secret, Alice?” 
said Mary in a whisper. 

"Why yes, to be sure, and what is it?” 

"This is to be something that no one knows but 
myself and — and — ” 

"Jimmy O’Donnel?” laughingly asked Alice. 

"Now, how provoking to almost take the words out 
of one’s mouth !” 

"Well, is it Jimmy?” 

"What?” 

"Why, how stupid ! Is it Jimmy that is the sharer 
of the secret, for if it is, I feel pretty sure that I know 
what the secret is,” said Alice, while Mary’s face 
turned a deep crimson, and then she asked: 

"Did you hear anything about it?” 

"How should I, when I don’t know even what it 
is at this time; I’m only guessing.” 

"Well, let me hear what you suppose that it is,” 
said Mary. 

Alice leaned over to Mary, and whispered some- 


348 


BOSS TOM. 


thing in her ear, that made Mary laugh and nod her 
head a little. “You are a good guesser.” 

“And when is it going to be, and are you going any- 
where on a trip after the ceremony is over?” 

“I don’t know, yet,” said Mary, looking very pretty 
and glowing with color, “he only asked me a short 
time ago, and we haven’t arrangements made, nor 
have we any plans as yet.” 

“Well, Jimmy is a good, steady, honest, young man, 
and a young man that one could be proud of,” and 
Alice, as she said this, leaned over and flung her arms 
around Mary and gave her a hearty kiss, adding that 
she wished her much happiness in the future. 

There was a clicking of the garden gate, and then a 
rap at the door that interrupted their conversation, 
and, as the door opened, there came a cheery voice 
asking them if they were plotting mischief. Both 
girls gave a little laugh, for there stood the object of 
their conversation, Jimmy O’Donnel, and there was 
something in the way he held up his head and the hot- 
house rose-bud that he had in the lapel of his coat, 
that gave him a very jaunty appearance. 

“And how are you, Miss Alice; and how are you, 
Mary?” 

“And it’s Miss Alice to her, and it’s Mary to me, 
is it?” 

“I beg pardon, Miss Mary,” said Jimmy, with a 
laugh, and then he added, “and did you hear the news?” 

“No, do tell us,” said both in one breath. 

“Father Phelan preached a great sermon the other 
day and he censured, in the sternest manner, the at- 
tempt to burn the breaker, and the attack upon 
Gwynne. He advised the men if they would win this 
strike, that they should be law-abiding citizens and 
peaceful.” 

“Now, Jimmy O’Donnel, you know that I heard 
that sermon as well as yourself,” said Mary. 

“Well, there is still more news, and that is that the 
Methodist and Presbyterian ministers are going to 


BOSS TOM. 


349 


preach sermons on the strike, too, this coming Sunday.” 

“And how do you know that?” asked Alice. 

“I just passed them on the way here and they were 
all talking strike together.” 

“Why, I thought that Father Phelan wouldn’t have 
anything to do with Protestant ministers,” said Alice. 

“Indeed, Father Phelan would talk to anybody,” said 
Mary. 

“It’s the fact that they were all talking about the 
strike as I passed them, and I couldn’t help but hear 
what they were saying. Mr. Dunn, the Methodist 
minister, was saying that the only solution for the 
strike was for people to treat each other as brothers, 
and Rev. Lees said that the churches must take up the 
poor man’s cause. Father Phelan said that that was 
right, and he wondered why they didn’t preach to 
their congregation about it as he had done. He said 
that Lees ought to give Gwynne and Hoyt a sermon 
that would make them think a little. They both said 
that they were going to preach sermons on the strike 
this coming Sunday, and that was all that I heard on 
the way here, so you see that I’m correct,” asserted 
Jimmy in conclusion. 

“Well, it would be a good thing if they would,” 
assented Alice. 

Jimmy paused for a moment, and then turning to 
Mary, asked: “Did you tell her, Mary?” 

“Yes,” said Mary, “and she’s going to be brides- 
maid and — ” 

“Ssssh,” said Jimmy, interrupting her, “you don’t 
want to speak that too loudly just yet, until we get 
things better settled.” 

Mrs. Penhall flung open the room door at this time, 
and, — “Supper is ready, and Tom isn’t here to eat it, 
and I doant think that we’ll wait upon him any Linger,” 
she said. Jimmy and Mary were invited to supper, 
and accordingly stayed. In the midst of the supper 
singing was heard without, and a step upon the board- 
walk. 


350 


BOSS TOM. 


“Do de do do de do do de new Jerusalem, 
Washed in the blood of the Lamb.” 

“There’s Tom now, and he’s coming in as if he 
hadn’t been without supper,” said Mrs. Penhall, as 
Tom’s head passed by the window. 

“He’s happy about something, for he never sings 
that unless he’s happy, and in a pleasant frame of 
mind,” said Alice. 

Tom came in with a face that seemed to fairly beam 
with good spirits. “ ’Ow are ’ee all !” 

“Why, we’re pretty tired a-waiting for you to come 
in to supper; I told you not to go away, that supper 
was about nearly ready,” snapped Mrs. Penhall, a 
little crossly, for she disliked her cooking to be spoiled 
by persons not coming to meals promptly. 

“Ah, me dear, I ’ad to go down to the store, before 
I could eat a bit of supper,” said Tom. 

They all looked inquiringly and Tom, seeing that 
he was expected to make some explanation, to sat- 
isfy the curiosity he had stirred up, said: “Well, I 
just couldn’t eat a bite afore I knew that they 
McGlyns ’ad summat to eat, too. It just made my 
’eart fairly ache to listen to Mary telling about them 
starving and so I ’ad to go up to the store and horder 
up to them all things that I thought that they would 
need — flour, and butter and cheese and coffee and 
tea.” 

Mrs. Penhall made no comment, but she was not 
displeased with her husband for this manifestation of 
his charitable heart. “No wonder he was a singing 
that tune and was feeling in good spirits,” she thought. 

Tom sat down and ate supper in a hurry, for the 
others had nearly finished before- he began and then 
he proposed a little singing in the parlor, and, of 
course, among the list of songs was the old favorite 
that he was heard singing on his way home from the 
store. In the interval between the hymns, Jimmy told 
the news that he had heard upon the street, when the 
clergymen were talking over the strike question. 


BOSS TOM. 


351 


“They should do that and perhaps we would have an 
end of the strike. It es too bad to think that all this 
suffering and trouble is among the poorer classes, for 
the sake of a few dollars on either side. Now there 
es the McGlyn family that ’as been starving for 
quite a time, and no one knew it ’till a short time ago. 
And ’ow many more are there who are ’alf' starving 
themselves and their children rather than tell their 
circumstances and beg. I wonder ’ow the Thomas 
and Phillips families are, and ’ow old Dicky are 
getting along, — not getting on very well, I think. I’ll 
’ave to go over there and see them on the morrow.” 

“It’s a good thing, Tom, that we doant know all 
the suffering that is going on in the world for if we 
did we wouldn’t have anything to eat ourselves ; you 
would give it all away,” said Mrs. Penhall. 

“The operators ought to remember the Revolution 
in France; if they don’t do right the government will 
get the mines yet. The people will have justice as 
the French Revolution shows. This strike is going 
to drive thousands into Socialism. The miners are all 
talking about it,” said Jimmy. 

“It’ll be bad for they operators, then,” said Tom; 
“I wish it were ended. Ned Thomas looks mad when 
he meets we bosses, ’cause we won’t stop watching 
the breaker. He won’t go to church and calls us scabs 
and he won’t sing in the choir any more, or go near 
the church, ’cause he says none but the 'scabs go 
there.’ ” 

“You are doing right, Tom, in watching the breaker, 
and don’t you stop,” said Jimmy; “your stopping 
won’t help us and if you stop you will be a spotted 
man, and will not get an hour’s work in the whole 
region.” 

“I knaw what ails Ned, poor fellow, ’e es without 
money, and the poor fellow es desperate. The strike 
’as made a wild man out of ’im. ’E used to^ be so 
cheerful and lively ; he says e es a soshlist. 1 11 ave 


352 


BOSS TOM. 


to see ef ’e need anything. I always liked un. The 
strike es bad and it’s a shame.” 

“A shame to men like Gwynne,” said Jimmy, in 
some indignation, “that they should oppress the men 
as they do and cause them to strike.” 

“Gwynne ’as done some bad things but ’e ’as a 
better nature than we all give ’im credit far, — ’e’s 
’onest, too,” said Tom. 

“Honest,” said Jimmy, with a touch of strong in- 
dignation in his tone; “look at what he did to George 
Penryn in giving him his discharge and ask Lew Wilt, 
the clerk, of his honesty.” 

“Why! did George get discharged, and why was it?” 
asked Mary and Alice in almost one voice, and there 
was a look of interest on their features that revealed 
the subject to be a new one to them. Old Tom had 
been fidgeting around upon his chair while Jimmy was 
speaking and he now threw in a word or two to 
dampen Jimmy’s communicativeness. 

“If ’ee knaw, lad, better not say anything about it 
and — the least said about the matter the better.” 

Tom believed George to be guilty of dishonest prac- 
tices and did not wish the same to be made any more 
public than necessary. He had a tender, kind heart, 
had the old Boss, and he could not bear that any more 
publicity should be given to the dishonor of a man 
whom he still loved. 

“Why,” said Mary, “we need not say anything 
about it, even if we do hear it. I didn’t know that 
George had been discharged at all. I thought that he 
had resigned on account of the strike.” 

“The fact of the matter was,” began Jimmy, ignor- 
ing Tom’s evident desire that nothing should be said 
of the affair, “Gwynne wanted George, months ago, 
to cheat the men and George wouldn’t do it.” 

“Les ’ear it all,” said Tom, a little surprised and 
dubious. “If George could be righted in my mind, I 
should be glad, for I thought that it was all ’is fault.” 

“It was this way. George and I are great friends 


BOSS TOM. 


353 


and he tells me many things that he doesn’t tell any 
one else. He told me some time ago that some months 
before that, the men under Develry, the stripping boss, 
worked two hours beyond the time that they should 
work. Gwynne said that they should work only 
ten hours and Develry allowed them to work twelve, 
and George, of course, gave them the two extra hours. 
Gwynne in looking over the report noticed it and or- 
dered him to correct it and give the men only the time 
that they were meant to work. George said that he 
remonstrated at that time saying that it would not 
be right and Gwynne told him to do as he was or- 
dered. He said, I believe, that you, Mr. Penhall, was 
just coming in at that time to see the superintendent, 
and Gwynne told him, as he was going into the private 
office with you, that he should do as he was ordered.” 

“Those were the very words,” said Tom, nodding 
his head with an anxious expression. 

“Well, George thought at that time if he did not 
obey Gwynne he would be out of a job, not only in 
the office, but also in Mayoton, and the whole mining 
region, and he was not prepared for that for they 
needed his help at home and they wanted to send Nel- 
lie off to school.” 

Both Tom and the girls were listening with the 
closest attention to the narrative of Jimmy, and there 
was a painful expression upon the face of the former. 

“Well, George was sadly put to to know what to 
do; then he thought that he could still obey Gwynne 
and be honest at the same time. He thought of a plan. 
He would take off the two hours for that time, as 
Gwynne had told him to do, and he would be honest 
to the men by giving them back again the two hours 
some time the following month. He did so, but 
Gwynne found it out by examining the books and 
George admitted that he had given the men two hours 
intentionally to make up what they had been un- 
justly deprived of the month before, and then Gwynne 
discharged him.” 


354 


BOSS TOM. 


“Ah, the rogue!” said Tom, with strong indignation 
in his tone; “he never told me that. He told me that 
George had cheated the company, and Reeber said the 
same, and ’ere I was a treating George as ef ’e was a 
thief and a rogue instead of an ’onest man as ’e es. 
The poor lad! Gwynne es the rogue.” 

“And that is not all,” said Jimmy; “I think that we 
may as well show up some more of his dealings while 
we are about it. I think that he ought to be known 
for the man that he is. He also opened mail in the 
office. Wilt told me some time ago that a letter came 
for you, Mr. Penhall, a great, large bulky letter and 
he had forgotten to charge the extra postage. Gwynne 
was in the office and gave him a lecture for neglecting 
it, and then he was called to wait upon a customer. 
When he came back the sealing of the letter looked as 
if it was broken and had been sealed up again. The 
mucilage upon it was moist, there was a drop of 
mucilage upon the desk and the bottle was not in its 
accustomed place. He knew that the letter had been 
opened by Gwynne and was worried about it, for a 
time, fearing that the letter had been robbed and that 
he would be blamed for it; but, as you said nothing 
about it, he thought it was only curiosity upon the 
part of Gwynne.” 

“He es a rogue,” said Tom, aloud, and with strong 
indignation ; “that is the reason that ’e was so friendly 
with me.” 

“Why?” asked the girls, but Tom would not reveal 
what he thought, but held his peace. 

“There’s Wilt now and Belle Phillips with him,” 
said Jimmy, as the forms of the above mentioned par- 
ties passed in through the gate. There was a rap at 
the door and Alice arose to admit them. Wilt con- 
firmed the report that Jimmy had given about the 
letter, but said that he would not like the matter men- 
tioned as he might lose his position. 

“Yes, Gwynne is the meanest and most dishonest 
superintendent that we have ever had and I know a 


BOSS TOM. 


355 


lot about his doings. That is not the only instance 
that I know of. We had a lot of goods that went poor 
for us, and we accidentally sold a few of them to the 
people, and they brought them back, but Gwynne 
wouldn’t allow us to take them and when the people, 
Americans, wouldn’t buy them, he told us to sell them 
at the same price to the foreigners, as the company 
couldn’t afford to lose by it. Then he ordered Brame 
to buy up a large lot of rotten, mining boots, and sell 
them at first class prices and the miners suffered by it. 
It was all for the sake of the company.” 

“He es a rogue,” said Tom warmly, “that accounts 
for my boots giving out so quickly.” 

“And there are many other crooked things about 
him, but I guess I have told enough, and if Gwynne 
should hear of it, my name’s Dennis,” said Wilt. 

The conversation went on for a time, and then Wilt 
said that he must go. He had been out for a short 
walk and had some work to do yet that evening. 

“It is fortunate that Wilt is going with Phillips’ 
daughter,” said Jimmy, after the exit of Wilt, “for 
I don’t think that they could live through the strike 
if Wilt didn’t help them.” 

“How”s that?” asked Tom, and then Jimmy told 
how Wilt was assisting the Phillips family out of his 
own pocket, giving them things out of the store and 
then charging them to his own account. 

“ ’Ow es it,” said Tom, “that the Miners’ Organiza- 
tion doant ’elp the strikers more than it does, and that 
people are in the pt>or starving position they are?” 

“It’s because the Organization don’t have the money 
to help them, and then the people are too proud to 
come to the headquarters for help. Some of them 
think that it is too much like begging and they don’t 
like that.” 

Tom nodded his head. 

“Come, Jimmy, we must go, it’s getting late,” said 
Mary. 


356 


BOSS TOM. 


The visitors wended their way out and Tom was 
left with many changed opinions. 

“It es too bad to think that I ’ave been treating that 
boy, George, coldly as ef ’e was a dis’onest lad and 
a rogue, and ’ere ’e ’as been all along ’onest and 
upright and having the trials of Job. What a shame.” 

“Yes and saved your life, father, at the breaker,” 
said Alice. 

“ ’E es a noble lad,” said Tom warmly, “I misjudged 
him badly and didn’t treat un right.” 

There was a happy little glow at the heart of Alice, 
something that she didn’t understand or realize. She 
thought that it was her father’s realization of a hero’s 
worth and the friendly relation again to be estab- 
lished between George and her father, — but was that 
all? 


BOSS TOM. 


357 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

SERMONS. 

I T WAS a Sunday morning in the fall, and 
the sun was shining brilliantly in the heavens, 
warming damp nature, and drinking up the hu- 
midity of the earth. It was that period known by the 
name of Indian summer, and there was a peculiar 
hazy mist upon the horizon, as of the smoke of for- 
est fires. The trees, though bare and denuded in some 
sections, still retained some of their gorgeous autum- 
nal dress, scarfs of orange and mantles of red and gold. 

‘TPs a picter far a painter,” said Tom, as he and 
his family started forth to the house of God. Tom had 
paused for a moment at the gate of his little domain 
and scanned the scenery with the gaze of the nature 
lover that he was. Mrs. Penhall had returned for a 
hymn-book and the others were awaiting her. Across 
the road, like a jewel, set in variegated velvet, was 
the little white church with its small spire, surrounded 
by the rustling trees. 

“There es something in the Sabbath day,” con- 
tinued Tom, “that es peaceful and solemn-like and yet 
it es nice, too. It makes one think of God and ’is 
goodness to us and makes a man feel glad. T was glad 
when they said unto me, let us go into the house of 
the Lord. Our feet shall stand within thy gates, Oh, 
Jerusalem,’ ” continued Tom, quoting softly to him- 
self one of the Psalms that he loved. 

Mrs. Penhall returned with the forgotten hymn- 
book and together they proceeded across the road to 
the church. Quite a crowd of men and boys stood 
around outside, but Tom, beyond a pleasant smile and 
nod here and there, did not pause for he thought that 


358 


BOSS TOM. 


it was an evil to stand around outside as some did and 
then come in when the service had commenced. Tom 
believed that all ought to be in their seats when the 
service began. The Boss and his daughter went 
into the little choir circle, for Tom was one of 
the bass singers and Alice was the organist at times, 
though she much preferred to allow Nellie Penryn 
play and take part in the singing herself. The whole 
choir was present with the exception of Thomas, who 
refused to attend a “scab church. ,, 

A hush fell over the whole audience as the aged 
pastor, the Rev. Mr. Dunn, entered the pulpit and be- 
gan the opening service. The hymn was read and 
then sung with a hearty good will. 

“When all thy mercies, Oh, my God, 

My rising soul surveys, 

Transported with the view I’m lost 
In wonder, love and praise.” 

The sixth chapter of Galatians was read and then 
came the text and the sermon. There was renewed in- 
terest for there was something that made the audience 
think of present times. 

“Every man shall bear his own burden. Bear ye one 
another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” The 
preacher paused for a moment, during which he 
cleaned his glasses, that had become slightly moist. 

“Strangely inconsistent do these passages appear 
upon the first cursory examination of them. How can 
a man bear his own burdens and yet have another 
bear them for him, and how can a man bear his own 
burdens and shoulder the burdens of his brother?” 
The preacher then referred tenderly and sympathet- 
ically to the hardships of the times and the burdens 
that were being borne by the poor. 

“We have entered upon perilous times, times in 
which scenes of strife and violence and suffering are 
upon all sides and party feeling is rife, and yet, is 
there not a great deal of misunderstanding from which 
hardships arise? We look too much through our 


BOSS TOM. 


359 


own spectacles instead of through the spectacles of 
others, and our own grievances seem mountainous 
at times, while our brothers’ lives seem, to our be- 
clouded vision, entirely free from care.” 

Continuing his discourse, he showed that all men 
were subject to the common heritage of work, hard- 
ship and burden bearing, that no one was exempt from 
the common experience of mankind. He knew that he 
was treading upon dangerous ground when he made a 
plea for the condition of employers and their responsi- 
bilities, but like a brave old hero, he was equal to the 
task. His people had a most bitter feeling toward the 
operator and those in authority, and the feeling was 
not Christian-like and must be removed. He must 
tell the people what they did not like to hear, but it 
was for their good. 

“As a people, you have always been reasonable and 
just, and I wish now to use that good reasoning power 
of yours to ameliorate, if possible, the feeling against 
those who have charge in business matters. You know 
your own troubles and trials and they are grievous 
to bear but has the operator no burden and is 
he devoid of care as we sometimes fondly, but unjust- 
ly, imagine? There is a burden of responsibility that 
we little think of and of which the working man knows 
nothing.” He spoke of the labor of rulership and 
of finance, the difficulties of marketing the prepared 
product and of securing for ready payment at the 
proper time the thousands of dollars that went out to 
the officials and employes as salaries, the expending 
of large sums, at a risk at times, to receive greater re- 
turns after years of waiting, or perhaps to have the 
initial sums entirely lost through mismanagement or 
the precarious condition of the markets. “Now I 
know, my brethren, that there are various complaints 
that are being made against the grasping and avarice 
of employers, and with a great deal of truth, but has 
the employer no burdens to bear and can there not 
be some sympathy for him in the midst of his labors, 


360 


BOSS TOM. 


as well as for the labors of those whom we understand 
better? Believe me, my brethren, be not prone to 
judge too harshly in matters of which we know so 
little. Better not judge at all than to judge wrongly. 
You do not realize the burdens he carries.” 

The aged pastor spoke of the kind nature of their 
own individual employer, Mr. Hoyt. Did any one ever 
know a case of distress that was presented to him that 
did not straightway touch his heart and his pocket- 
book? When any public movement for the benefit of the 
masses was in progress and needed the requisite finance 
to support it, he was always ready to assist. If there 
was a child sick in the town of Mayoton, or a house- 
hold down with disease, there was a nurse and per- 
haps a couple of nurses sent free of charge to attend 
the afflicted ones until they were once more in a state 
of health. He did not need to do this. There was no 
law and no expectation that such should be done. And 
yet he did it out of the kindness of his own heart. 
There were grateful looks upon the faces of some, for 
they realized personally the truth of the pastor’s 
words. Then with a great burst of eloquence the 
minister turned again to the trials of those who had 
great interests at stake and their burdens. There 
was the constant competition with greater capital, — 
the compelling force of greater corporations, — the fact 
that the individual operator was in many respects like 
the Israelites of old, between the great kingdoms of 
Assyria and Egypt, like grain between the upper and 
nether millstones. The operator is frequently be- 
tween labor on the one hand, and strong combinations 
of capital on the other, who almost compel him to 
obey them. The pastor stated that he had selected 
this theme because he knew it was to no purpose to 
tell them of their own grievances, for thev knew them 
well enough already, and needed not that any one 
should uncover the sore of their present uncomfort. 
What he desired them to do in the present time was 
to be more charitable to the operators and to have a 


BOSS TOM. 


361 


greater Christian spirit, to hate all lawlessness, to 
be orderly and sober, trusting that Divine Providence 
would make a way out of their troubles. 

There were many earnest and sober faces through- 
out the sermon. George Penryn, in speaking of the 
matter afterward, said that the pastor had opened 
his eyes in reference to the operator ; the figure of the 
operator between the upper and nether millstone was 
a very forceful one ; the millstone of labor and greater 
capital. But the Rev. Mr. Dunn was not the only 
one that preached on the strike situation on that 
bright Sabbath day. If he had presented one side of 
the question that his people especially needed, so had 
the Rev. Mr. Lees. The First Presbyterian church, of 
the nearby city, was crowded on that memorable day. 
The rumor that the famous pastor was going to preach 
upon the subject that was agitating all minds had 
leaked out and eight hundred faces greeted him from 
the pews of the large building. Arthur Hoyt and wife 
were in their accustomed pew, near the center of the 
side isle, and on the other side of the building was the 
pew of Owen Gwynne, with its accustomed occu- 
pants. Gwynne had recovered from the attack of the 
foreigners, and nothing was indicative of the fact ex- 
cept a deep scar on the forehead where the club struck 
him in the melee upon the Mayoton road. It was the 
first time since the sickness of Gwynne that he had 
attended church, and there were many curious minds, 
but the well-bred congregation was too courteous to 
stare. Near the great organ of hundreds of gilded 
pipes in the rear of the pulpit were the paid singers— 
all men with well trained voices. Softly at first, and 
then with greater volume, the strains of the voluntary 
filled the building, sinking at one time to a faint wail, 
as of a child sobbing, and then rising into sweeter 
music as the great bass pipes began to boom and then 
softly rumble, then came the full diapason, and the 
building was filled with the swelling sound. It died 
away at length as softly as it had begun; and then 


362 


BOSS TOM. 


came the service. The first hymn was old Dundee 
and, in decorous order, the singers took their stations. 

“Great God, how infinite art thou ! 

How frail and weak are we! 

Let the whole race of creatures bow 
And pay their praise to thee.” 

The song increased in volume as voice after voice 
joined in and then, as if the organ was jealous of 
its prerogative as a leader, swelled forth thunderous 
chords of music, booming, growling, rumbling, peal- 
ing, yet music withal, until the art glass windows vi- 
brated, trembled and quivered in fear and participated 
in their own manner in the strains of praise. The 
hymn was ended, the organ silenced, the scripture 
read, again came the sound of melody, and then the 
sermon. 

The Rev. Mr. Lees was a tall man, smooth faced, yet 
not boyish in appearance. His face was not a hand- 
some one, yet there was something about it that was 
admirable. There was forcefulness there and yet gen- 
tleness, and his dark eyes and a slight southern ex- 
pression now and then gave him somewhat of the Ran- 
dolph appearance. 

In smooth, sonorous tones the text was read from 
the book of Haggai, the prophet. “ ‘The silver and 
the gold are mine, saith the Lord/ 

“It was a great and notable time in the half-built 
city of Jerusalem. For seven days it has been crowded 
with pilgrims and warriors, streaming through the 
broken gates and waste places. The blaring of trum- 
pets, the clanging of shields, the shouting of captains, 
the clink, clink, clink of the swords, the clashing of 
the loud sounding cymbals, thrumming of harps, and 
the shouts of the people, indicate some great and no- 
table occurrence in the calendar of Israel. Things, as 
equally strange to the eye as well as to the ear, ap- 
pear. The nobleman has left his palace and the poor 
peasant his hut upon the mountain side ; the courtier, 
the court ; the farmer, his plow ; the rich man, his man- 


BOSS TOM. 


363 


sion, and the poor man, his cottage. All are within 
the walls, abiding in booths and tents of green boughs 
for it is the Feast of Tabernacles and the last day of 
the feast. In the midst of the afternoon temple wor- 
ship, the prophet Haggai arises and speaks this sen- 
tence in the ears of the people. ‘The silver and the 
gold are mine, saith the Lord of Hosts.’ 

“They were living in dangerous and stirring times 
when there was much dissatisfaction, and similar 
times are we twentieth century people living in to- 
day, times when there is great dissatisfaction among 
all classes of society. We read of disturbing features 
in the whole make-up of our nation. Every blast 
brings to our ears something of the popular tumult 
and agitation that has permeated society as a whole. 
There are agitations in the money marts of the world, 
and disturbing features among the laboring classes 
that cause all mankind to suffer, and the very social 
fabric of our nation to tremble as if in the throes of 
dissolution. A wave of commercialism and wealth 
has swept with irresistible force over our country, and 
the struggle after the good material things of life so 
consumes the attention of men and women that they 
often lose sight of Christian principles and the 
thought, so ably given by the prophet, that what the 
people of earth possess is not really theirs, but 
only a loan from God and belongs to Him. If this 
text means anything it means that the wealth of the 
world belongs to God and is only entrusted to that 
person who has ability to handle it. Think not, my 
friends, if you have thus been entrusted with great 
things that your possession is irrespective of a 
greater owner. Virtually all things belong to God, 
and we are his trustees. You have ability to handle 
money and executive qualifications to increase what 
you have. God has therefore given these possessions to 
you. You are the trustee. The poor man has not 
the executive ability to handle great sums, and may 
never have greater possessions than he has. He is a 


364 


BOSS TOM. 


child of the earth-family and you are the trustee for 
him in these matters.” 

Continuing the discourse, the preacher referred very 
lovingly to his congregation and to the charitable 
spirit that they had at all times manifested. He knew 
of some of them that never knew of a single case of 
distress, but what they had taken steps to alleviate 
it. The people of his charge were as affectionate as 
any; the same kind heart that he had observed in 
other charges, he had likewise seen here. But what 
he especially had to condemn in people to-day was the 
non-application of Christian principles to business life. 

“The student of political economy tells us that the 
law of supply and demand regulates all things in the 
business world, and it is true. The greater the supply 
the market has, the cheaper the goods become, and 
the scarcer the article, the higher its price. This is 
true in the abstract in material things, but I desire to 
emphatically protest against the application of such 
a principle in its entirety to the human individual. 

“Don’t take advantage of that harsh, inexorable 
principle in dealing with labor, notwithstanding what 
political economy says to the contrary. A righteous, 
loving charity for the working man ought to prevail. 
The employer frequently knows nothing of the poor 
in his employ and never knows whether they have 
sufficient to live on or not. Many care for nothing 
more than the augmentation of their profits, and care 
not by what methods the same are increased. As long 
as the chief man in control makes it pay well they 
seem not over-anxious to know how or by what means. 
The great curse of the nation to-day is not the many 
things that are referred to, but the insane grasping 
after more profit, the love to be wealthier than some 
one else, and so the profits are pushed to the extreme 
and some one must suffer. All are struggling for 
wealth and the weaker are trodden underfoot; they 
cry out in their anguish but we turn a deaf ear to 


BOSS TOM. 


365 


their pleas. It is not Christ-like. 'Live and let live/ 
should be our motto. 

“Though there are great deeds done under the in- 
spiration of poverty yet what crimes stain the fair 
page of history through the same influence and es- 
pecially when there is a grinding heel overhead? I 
start back aghast whenever I think of the savage atro- 
cities of the Reign of Terror. Will it ever come again? 
Will labor arise in his might and bring upon the land 
a period of unspeakable bloodshed? Not if the laborer 
is treated Christ-like. Various cures for national ills 
are advocated and gain supporters, which only seek to 
reform the exterior while the interior is left in the 
same precarious state as before. There is only one cure 
and that is the one that I am advocating to-day, and 
which Peter and Paul and others advocated before, 
and that is the thorough application of Christian prin- 
ciples to active business life. More Christianity we 
need ; more brotherliness, for God is our common 
Father. The laboring man is a brother and should be 
treated as such. Let him have a little of this world’s 
goods, a little of its pleasures ; or woe, woe, and war 
will come upon the land, consecrated by the labor of 
Washington, and American heroes. Already, though 
wrongly, do the laboring classes look upon the rich as 
their enemies. It was so in France in 1789. You 
know what followed, the lilies of France were 
drenched with blood. More applied Christianity 
would have averted the Reign of Terror.” 

Hoyt during this part of the discourse did not look 
at the minister, but sat apparently in a brown study, 
flushed once or twice, but not very perceptibly. 

The preacher then referred to cases of distress, one 
in particular of which he had heard, as the result of 
this mercenary spirit of the times. It was the story 
of the Widow McGlyn and her family, but he men- 
tioned no names. His attitude was very dramatic and 
there was a winning pleading in his tones, as he de- 
scribed the scenes of that humble abode, the story 


366 


BOSS TOM. 


of' the potato and the talk of the children among them- 
selves. How he had heard these facts, no one knew. 
The whole scene of that beggarly little dwelling 
arose before that aristocratic audience. They saw, 
the holes in the shades, the miserable patched carpet, 
the widow anxiously searching for the crust of bread 
in the empty pantry, the little pinched faces of Patty 
and Rosie, and the mournful weeping forms of the 
desolate. It came before them as a series of panoramic 
pictures, and there was many a stifled sigh and the 
glistening of moisture on eye-lashes. 

Following up the advantage he had gained, the 
speaker asked whether these things should continue 
on account of a dollar or two on either side. He knew 
that he had men in his congregation that were em- 
ployers, and they had kind hearts whenever they knew 
of any distress that they could relieve. Here was dis- 
tress on a great scale, how great was not yet known for 
people would not reveal all the privations and suffer- 
ings to which they had been subjected. He knew that 
the subject had not been investigated as it should be, 
and he knew that the Christian spirit of his people 
would not allow this address to fall to the ground 
without taking some profit from it. “Remember/ ” he 
said, in conclusion, “the words of our Lord, ‘Inas- 
much as ye have done it unto the least of these, my 
brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ ” 

After a period of silent prayer the congregation 
was dismissed. Members said that the sermon was 
the masterpiece of Lees’ life, and that they wondered 
how he had the courage to preach like that, inasmuch 
as the points fell and struck severely on all sides. Mr. 
Arthur Hoyt called upon the clergyman sometime 
after the service, and thanked him for the able dis- 
course. He was a manly fellow, was Hoyt. There 
were many things in the discourse of which he had 
not thought before, and they were brought very forc- 
ibly to his mind. 


BOSS TOM. 


367 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

ANOTHER NEW REGIME. 

M R. PENHALL, you are wanted at the office,” 
said a boy to Boss Tom as that worthy was 
resting one afternoon upon his front portico. 
Tom had been up most of the night before watching 
the breaker and other property of the company, and 
was resting an hour or so after his early supper before 
again resuming the weary watching of the night. The 
lad who had brought the message could say nothing 
about it. 

“I suppose,” thought Tom to himself, “that Gwynne 
wants to see me about something or other and yet I 
doant like to ’ave much to do weth ’e, since that time 
that Jimmy told me about how he had lied about 
George, and yet I suppose that I ’ave to go and see.” 

Muttering to himself, Boss Tom arose, placed his hat 
upon his head and went to the office of the company. 
There was a team of spirited bays that Tom recognized 
standing outside in care of a hostler. The owner 
of those horses was not accustomed to being kept 
waiting and the Boss hastened his footsteps. Swing- 
ing open the door of the paymaster’s office, he found 
the long room totally empty, and he turned to the 
private office when the door was opened by the opera- 
tor himself. 

“I thought that Mr. Gwynne was here and had sent 
for me,” Tom said, as if apologizing for his intrusion. 

“No, no, Tom ; I have sent for you myself to have a 
little personal talk. Mr. Gwynne is not here and — 
but of that later.” 

Mr. Arthur Hoyt had seated himself in the favorite 
desk-chair of Gwynne’s and was gazing scrutinizingly 


368 


BOSS TOM. 


at Tom, who was standing in a respectful manner 
nearby. A fire was burning in the grate, though it 
was not cold, and sent a cheerful glow over the in- 
terior. Finally Hoyt spoke, “Sit down, Mr. Penhall, 
for a minute or two ; I want you to tell me one or two 
things about the men in the strike. Is there any op- 
pression in this mine of which you know?” 

Tom took the chair that was indicated, and then 
there was silence for a moment or two, when Hoyt 
continued : 

“You needn’t be afraid, Mr. Penhall, of speaking 
out what you think freely for I know you to be honest. 
Tell me first about the running of this mine for the 
last few months and about the miners and their fami- 
lies.” 

“Well,” said Tom, “there was no oppression that I 
knew of, at most not much, when McCue was the 
superintendent, but since Mr. Gwynne ’as been the 
one in control, there ’as been very many complaints.” 

“Tell me about the men and how they live and about 
their earnings.” 

Tom thus encouraged began with more confidence: 

“Well, the earnings of the miners depend upon the 
place they ’ave to work in. Sometimes the vein of 
coal doant pitch very much and then they ’ave a harder 
time loading the coal into the cars than they ’ave when 
the vein pitches a great deal. ’Ee see, Mr. Hoyt, it is 
easier for the coal to be loaded when it runs down the 
breast of its own accord. Now one of the men in my 
slope had such a flat breast that ’e ’ad to shovel the 
coal two or three times afore ’e could get un in the car 
and so on account of that ’e wasn’t able to send out 
much coal all the time ’e was in that place. This was 
old Dicky Curnow. Then sometimes the breast pitches 
too much — that es it is too steep and the breast ’ave 
to be always full of coal for the miners to do any work, 
for they must ’ave something to stand upon to work ; 
so some months they daren’t draw out much coal or 
they will spoil their places for working. During the 


BOSS TOM. 


369 


time they are driving up the breast they don’t draw out 
much and so their pay is small; but when they have 
driven up the breast and are drawing out, they make 
high pay.” 

“Go on,” said Hoyt, as he lit another cigar. 

“Well, then the vein at times becomes very thin and 
slaty and ’ard to blast, and, of course, the miner can’t 
send out many cars of pure coal ; sometimes he gets 
docked far those ’e does send out and that, added to 
the cost of blasting it, for it takes more powder, makes 
it very ’ard for ’im to get along, and ’e makes starva- 
tion wages if ’e is paid by the car. Then ef ’e is paid 
by the yard he receives trouble too. If the vein is 
hard, slaty and thick, it cost much to drive it, and the 
men say as how powder is too dear, too.” 

“What, you a striker too !” said Hoyt with a trace of 
a smile upon his face. 

“No,” said Tom, with a little flush upon his counte- 
nance, “I’m no striker, for I hold that strikes neither 
help the working man nor the operator, but injure 
both, no matter who wins, but the powder es too high. 
Then the men complain of the docking boss that they 
had under Gwynne, Mr. Henny. I know myself, that 
cars of coal were docked when there wasn’t the slight- 
est reason why they should be docked except that the 
superintendent desired to increase the profits of the 
company. Now when a miner doant make out well 
because ’e is driving up a breast of coal and must 
leave loose coal in the breast to stand upon to work it, 
it is ’ard enough for ’im to be docked then ; but when 
the breast is worked out and ’e is drawing out ’is coal 
and ’e is docked sometimes a tenth of the cars that ’e 
sends out, it is enough to make any one cross. A 
miner sometimes makes, for some months, on an 
average of thirty dollars a month and then he begins 
to draw out ’is coal and ’e makes for that month say 
from a hundred to a hundred and forty dollars, and 
then ’e gets docked for it, it is too ’ard to bear. Then 
there are some wicked rascals that doant say anything 


370 


BOSS TOM. 


about the months that ’e gets about thirty dollars, but 
point to the months that he draws a hundred or so 
dollars, and say that the miner is well paid, for see 
what he gets a month. Then the miners say as how 
the cars are getting bigger every year and they ought 
to be paid by the ton and not have to ’eap up the cars 
as they have ’ad to do, for it falls off anyway afore 
it gets to the top.” 

'‘Well, and what about the company store and the 
company butcher?” said Hoyt. 

“They are all right in themselves, but when it comes 
to making a man spend one-third and sometimes one- 
half of his income in the company store and threaten- 
ing ’im with being discharged ef ’e doesn’t, it isn’t 
right.” 

“Well, isn’t it right for a man to patronize the com- 
pany that gives him work?” asked Hoyt, a little 
testily. 

“No,” said Tom, “not to that extent. You see, Mr. 
Hoyt, the miners want a little money to handle as well 
as other people. The miner wants to save up a little 
money for a rainy day and wants to ’ave a bank ac- 
count as well as other people. There are doctors to 
pay and perhaps a little ’ome that he wants to own 
sometime or other, and then, perhaps, ’e wants to send 
’is children off to school, and the company can’t do 
that for ’im, and you see that the miner can’t spend as 
much as Gwynne wants ’im to do or ’e will be poor all 
’is life.” 

Hoyt was listening, an occasional flush coming upon 
his face. 

“Then that is not all, for a miner that wants to save 
up ’is money and doant spend much can’t get a good 
place, for the best places must be given to the men 
that spend the most of their earnings in the company 
store. The miner that es careful of ’is money and tries 
to save, is given a wet place where ’e will catch the 
rheumatism and can’t make much money,” and Tom 
continued to give the operator a clear statement in 


BOSS TOM. 


371 


his own homely way of the condition of the miners 
and the extortions of Gwynne. “I ’ave known miners 
to make out so poorly that their little ones ’ad to work 
all night in the city mills to make enough to make their 
parents’ earnings keep the family from starvation. 
Then the same children ’ave to be kept out of their 
schooling for the truant officer can be easily outwitted. 
People will tell ’ee too, Mr. Hoyt, that the miner re- 
ceives big pay and they never tell of the laborers that 
’e ’as to pay afore he can call ’is money ’is own. Now, 
take for instance a miner’s check. On the check that ’e 
gets from the office, afore ’e gets ’is pay, ’e ’as at the 
top, say, if ’e makes out well and is drawing out ’is 
coal, a hundred and forty dollars at the most. ’E pays 
out of that sixty dollars for ’is helpers or laborers, 
that makes out sixty dollars for ’imself, out of which 
’e ’as to pay a ’eavy powder bill, store bills, house-rent, 
doctor’s bill and a sight of other bills, and ’e doesn’t 
’ave much left after all the bills are paid. That is 
when the pay is good and ’e is drawing out ’is coal ; 
but when ’e is working up the breast and can’t send 
out much coal and ’as to pay ’is laborer or laborers, ef 
’e ’as more than one, and the ’eavy powder bill and 
the other expenses, after it is all told ’e ’asn’t nothing 
at all to show that ’e ’as beenMvorking, except a sore 
pair of shoulders. There are some men, Mr. Hoyt, 
that will point to the wages without saying nothing 
of the laborer’s pay, the powder bill and the other ex- 
penses that ’as to come out of them afore the miner 
can say that what ’e receives is ’is own.” 

“Well,” said Hoyt, as Tom finished speaking, “I 
didn’t know things were as bad as you have told me. 
I think that if I was a miner, I certainly would be a 
striker, too. You needn’t watch at the breaker to- 
night, for there will be no occasion for it. I saw Mr. 
Gwynne and had a talk with him, and am convinced 
that he is not the man I want for superintendent any 
longer. He is at the present time out of office. We 
had a talk, a short time before you came in, and he re- 


372 


BOSS TOM. 


fused to adopt any other plan than the one that has 
been tried and proved so lamentably deficient ; for 
though he has increased the profits of the mine enor- 
mously since he was in office, yet the company has lost 
by the strike more than he gained by his methods and 
when he refused to change his plans I discharged him. 
The mine has now no supeintendent,” Hoyt paused 
for a moment during which he scanned the counte- 
nance of Tom closely and then he continued. 

“Do you know of any one, Tom, that could take up 
the work?” 

Tom thought for a moment and then shook his 
head. 

“Mr. Penhall, how do you think that you could run 
this mine as the superintendent?” 

Tom was a little taken back by this abrupt proposal 
of the operator. 

“Do ’ee mean it, Mr. Hoyt?” 

“Certainly,” said Mr. Hoyt. 

“If you would be satisfied with the profits that were 
made under the superintendency of McCue — I suppose 
that I could do the work,” responded Tom, after a 
pause. 

“I think, on the whole, that McCue paid me fully 
as well as Gwynne, all things being considered. You 
can have the position and get those to assist you that 
you think will be suitable for the various departments. 
You can call the committee and tell them to come here 
and we will see what we can do about the things of 
which they complain. And don’t forget to come back 
yourself.” Tom arose and went without and the 
operator awaited the return of the new superintendent 
and the strikers’ committee. 

The news went around the town of Mayoton like 
wild-fire and soon not only the committee, but whole 
crowds of strikers were upon the scene. It was dark, 
but the lights from the store and office windows 
flashed and streamed out of the numerous panes and 
drank up eagerly the outside darkness ; eager faces 


BOSS TOM. 


373 


could be seen here and there, expectant faces, curious 
faces, for Hoyt had sent for the men, the commit- 
tee, and it was said upon good authority that a set- 
tlement was about to be reached. Lads, breaker lads, 
had gathered and found their own stations ; some on 
each other’s shoulders ; some on the telegraph pole 
just outside the office window. There was the same 
intense curiosity and interest manifested as upon a 
former occasion when the committee had been in the 
office. 

The committee filed into the private office of the 
company. There was O’Donnel, tall and bony; Jones, 
the Welshman; Gallagher, Tony, Gusha and Adam. 

“Gentleman,” said Hoyt, “I have sent for you for a 
conference upon the strike question and think that we 
can terminate this dead-lock. You needn’t speak about 
your grievances as Mr. Penhall has been telling me 
about them as fairly as you yourselves could tell them. 
I have been considering them and others and have 
thought that some of them were worthy of being 
granted. The compulsory buying in the company 
store has been carried too far. I had no idea that it 
was as bad as it has been until Mr. Penhall told me of 
it. Compulsory buying shall cease. The store shall 
be as it always has been, but if vou wish to buy else- 
where you can do so. 

“In reference to the desired increase in wages, you 
shall receive not what you desired, but fifteen per cent, 
advance, that will be a five per cent, advance over the 
price of last year. That is not much, some of you may 
think, but when you consider the other offer in the re- 
duction of powder, I think that you will be satisfied. 
The percentage of increase applies to company men 
and also to miners. Black powder shall come down 
to a dollar and a half a keg and dualin powder to 
twelve cents a pound. 

“The docking system shall be abolished, but any 
miner sending out too much slate and not pure coal 
shall be discharged. There will be some official to 


374 


BOSS TOM. 


take account of the cars, and hereafter if there are any 
grievances I want you to especially agree to come to 
me, or to the superintendent in charge, and make com- 
plaint and the grievances shall be obviated. Do you 
accept the conditions?” 

“We’ll hev to put it before the Organization, Mr. 
Hoyt, and see what they will do wid it, but I think so 
far as the likes av us we would accept but far wan 
thing,” said O’Donnel. 

“And what is that?” 

“That is the raporting and complaining to the super- 
intendent whin anything goes wrong; for ye see, 
Gwynne would discharge a man that would do the 
likes av that.” 

“You need have no doubts on that, , for Mr. Gwynne 
is no longer superintendent of Mayoton and the one 
that is superintendent now will act right and justly.” 

“If you’re sure av that,” said O’Donnell doubtfully 
and slowly. 

“The new superintendent is there; Mr. Penhall is 
the superintendent of the mines from now on,” and 
Hoyt waved his hand at Boss Tom, who was near by. 

“What, Boss Tom the superintendent!” exclaimed 
O’Donnel, and not even the presence of Hoyt could re- 
strain a faint cheer from the committee, that was 
heard without. “If Tom is the superintendent, thin I 
says we don’t need any other agreement or conditions 
whativer. You need have no fear, Mr. Hoyt, that the 
min won’t accept the conditions, for whin they are 
told that Tom is the superintendent, they won’t care 
about the conditions at all.” 

“There, there,” said Hoyt as the committee gathered 
around Tom and shook hands with him, congratulat- 
ing him upon his accession to power, “there, that will 
do, and now go out and tell your Organization and 
then I want to speak to the men for a moment.” 

The committee thanked Hoyt and withdrew. 

Meantime outside the crowd of miners had increased 
and the ambitious breaker lads were climbing higher 


BOSS TOM. 


375 


on the telegraph pole, some pulling others down in 
their attempt to get better positions for observation. 

“What’s Hoyt a doing?” asked one out of view of 
the window. 

“He’s just a talking and the others are a listening,” 
came the answer from the one who had the point of 
vantage. 

“Has Tony a knife in his boot and what’s he a do- 
ing?” 

“He’s back behind the hull crowd a doing nawth- 
ing,” was the discouraging answer. 

“Leggo my leg, dang ye,” and the uppermost of the 
string of human monkeys let fly a kick that sent an- 
other to the ground, howling and calling the ambi- 
tious top-lad a “bloody darg,” and similar pleasant vo- 
catives. 

“Ah-h-h, g’wan with ye,” came back contemptuously 
from the exalted station above. 

“What’s O’Donnel doing now?” said another lad. 

“He’s talking and shaking his head.” 

“Is he a going to swipe him one?” 

Then a faint cheer was heard inside. 

“What’s it all about?” 

“Theys all around ould Tom and a shaking hands 
and a looking glad. Theys coming out.” 

There was an exodus from the pole, the youngsters 
sliding down to the great detriment of their clothes, 
and then hastening around to the entrance of the of- 
fice. The miners and others were assembled here to 
a great number and had been talking earnestly among 
themselves. The door opened and out came the com- 
mittee. 

“Ye had better call a meeting of the Organization 
right here,” said O’Donnel to George Penryn. Hav- 
ing ascertained that there was a majority present, the 
meeting was called to order and the committee re- 
ported the agreement offered by Hoyt. 

“And these things will be carried out because 
Gwynne is no longer superintendent.” 


376 


BOSS TOM. 


“Who’s the new superintendent?” asked a voice 
back in the crowd. 

“Tom Penhall.” 

There was a cheer from the men and when the time 
came for a vote there was not a dissenting voice. 

Mr. Hoyt came out on the office steps and made a 
short speech to the men in which he told them that 
the mines would be open to-morrow and all that would 
report could receive their former positions if they 
wanted them. At the conclusion of his address he 
stated that he wanted them all to know that he had not 
yielded to force. He had learned some things about 
the miners, their wages, their living and conditions 
that he had not fully known before. Not that he was 
ignorant entirely of the affairs heretofore, but that 
they were presented to him in a different light. He 
had not made these concessions from fear or force, 
but from his present knowledge of things, and he 
wanted to see justice done. At the conclusion of his 
address he gave Tom the keys of the office and enter- 
ing his carriage drove rapidly away amidst the hearty 
cheers of the men whom he had benefited. The men 
after his departure gathered around old Tom and 
cheered and seemed anxious to shake his hand, for 
they felt that somehow he was the cause of the strike 
being ended. 

“Now, lemme go,” said Boss Tom laughing, “or I 
shall sack ’ee, every one of ’ee.” 

The news that the strike was terminated, so far as 
Mayoton was concerned, was heralded far and near 
that night. Every man, woman and child knew that 
the long protracted struggle, the cause of poverty, 
sorrow and hard feeling, had come to a close, and it 
was a happy closing for in addition to the things that 
they had received there was the discharging of 
Gwynne, and Tom, the idol of the people, was the man 
now in charge of affairs. Superintendent Tom Pen- 
hall was a synonym for fairness and justness and his 
being superintendent was more than all the other 


BOSS TOM. 


377 


concessions combined. There was no occasion to 
watch the property that night for fear of incendiarism. 
There were fires — but they were not dangerous — 
they were bonfires expressing the people’s joy at the 
coming of peace, happiness and work. A band sere- 
naded Hoyt and Tom at their respective homes ; it was 
a gala night for the citizens of Mayoton. Hoyt had 
seen the operators some time before his meeting with 
Tom Penhall, and had told them that he intended to 
grant his men some concessions and begin work as 
soon as possible. They had urged him to remain out, 
but he had made up his mind and that was sufficient 
for him. 

The mines of Mayoton were in full blast the follow- 
ing day, and the chough, chough, of the steam shovels, 
the creaking of cables, the rattling of car wheels, all 
seemed in their own way to rejoice that the long con- 
test was over. Superintendent Tom was sadly put to, 
at the first, to secure officials for one or two positions 
that were vacant. Bruice, foreman of Number Two, 
had resigned and gone out west to take charge of some 
new venture. Tom needed a foreman to put in his 
place, and also a foreman for Number One, made va- 
cant by his own elevation to the superintendent’s of- 
fice. For the first day the positions were filled tem- 
porarily until the coming to the office of Operator 
Hoyt on the following evening. 

“Whom do you recommend?” asked Hoyt. 

Tom promptly mentioned the names of George Pen- 
ryn and Jimmy O’Donnel. 

“Were they not leaders of the last strike?” 

“They were,” responded Tom, undaunted, “but 
they are honest and capable young men, besides they 
saved the breaker from burning, and also saved me 
from being killed by that rogue, Delucca, that night 
when the Hitalians tried to burn the property.” Tom 
related the story and when he had finished, Hoyt nod- 
ded his head. “Well, we need good, honest bosses, 
and you can give them the positions.” 


' 378 


BOSS TOM. 


Operator Hoyt was gone, and Tom was again 
alone in the office. The consent of Hoyt was the 
thing that he despaired of and now that was given. 
It was Tom’s chance now to return George’s favor, 
and no one could have done it with a happier will. 
Calling out to one of the timekeepers in the regular 
office, he sent him for George and Jimmy. He waited 
a little impatiently their arrival. They were good boys, 
and he had misjudged George badly, and must make 
some amends. He had not even thanked George for 
saving his life at the breaker. He had forgotten it 
at that time, for the fire was engaging, the attention 
of every one, and afterward, he thought he had better 
wait until he could thank him in a better form than 
with empty words. The time had come at last. 
There was the sound of approaching feet upon the 
steps, then in the little hall-way, and then the door 
opened and in came the objects of his thoughts. Tom, 
with a glad look in his eyes, told them both to sit 
down, and then he told George how wrongly he had 
misjudged him when Gwynne had told him that he had 
cheated the company. He was sorry for it now, and 
he had only waited until he could thank him also for 
saving his life at the breaker, until he was able to do it 
better than by words, and the time had come. 

“You, Jimmy, too, are a good boy, and deserve a 
raise, and so I want you both to be foremen of the 
slopes. George can go to Number One, and, Jimmy, 
you can be the foreman of Number Two. And now,” 
said Tom, seeking to cut short their thanks, “you can 
both report to-morrow morning, and I must go home, 
for it is after supper time.” 

The backbone of the strike was broken all over the 
region ; the other mines soon resumed work also. 
Operators discovered that it did not pay for the mines 
of Hoyt to be working, and their own to remain idle; 
so they compromised with their men and began work 
upon a new system. The miners were well satisfied 
for they had gained nearly all that they had asked. 


BOSS TOM. 


379 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

BOSS TOM HAS TROUBLE. 

T HE wedding of Jimmy O’Donnel and Mary Do- 
lan was one of the most brilliant affairs that the 
little mining village of Mayoton had ever wit- 
nessed. It was kept secret for a time, until all prep- 
arations had been consummated, but then the little 
busy bee of gossip was abroad and there had been 
vague rumors. The ceremony was held in the Roman 
Catholic church of the nearby city, Father Phelan 
officiating, and George and Alice in the train of wed- 
ding attendants, as best man and bridesmaid, re- 
spectively. But it was not the bridal couple that at- 
tracted the attention of George. Neither they, nor 
the officiating priest, in his magnificent flowing robes, 
occupied so much of his mind as the lovely figure of 
the bridesmaid, attired in white organdie, and carry- 
ing a magnificent bouquet of red roses, — Alice, with the 
deep, brown-gold hair and the smooth, broad white 
brow, and the sweet expression of countenance, hers 
from childhood, yet now matured with the dignity 
of womanhood, was she ever so lovely as now? he 
thought. The wedding service was over before he 
was aware of it, and then came the return to Dolan’s 
home. 

Peter Dolan had at last yielded to the request of his 
wife, and the depredations of the goats, and had moved 
to the house that Boss Bruice vacated in Quality Row. 
It was there that the wedding dinner was served, and 
the place was decorated in fitting fashion. Peter 
was enjoying himself as much as any one ; he and Tom 
seemed the moving spirits of mischief. It was he and 
Tom that had gathered all the old shoes that they 


380 


BOSS TOM. 


could find in the neighborhood, ready to fling them 
after the carriage that was standing at the door. 
George had secured several pounds of rice from the 
store, and when the party set out for the depot, they 
were fairly deluged with the grainy material. It 
rained boots and shoes and rice for the distance of a 
hundred yards or so, and Superintendent Tom laughed 
at the fun, until the tears ran down his cheeks. 

That night there was choir practice at the church 
just across from Tom’s home. Mrs. Penhall had at 
last objected to the many assemblages that were held 
at her house on account of the dust and mud that 
would invariably be brought in. It was old Dicky 
Curnow to whom she objected most, for she had 
noticed that he paid no attention to the cleaning of his 
heavy shoes. It would not do to tell poor old Dicky 
of his offense, so Tom had at length yielded to the 
inevitable, and the practice was held henceforth in the 
church across the way. The hymns were practiced, 
and then there was a lull, during which the termin- 
ation of the strike was discussed. 

“Well,” said Tom, making his remarks general, “I 
thought that ef Hoyt knew the exact state of affairs, 
’e would grant the things wanted by the men, and I 
’ope now that we’ll ’ave nothing but ’appy prospects 
afore us.” 

“I think it was all through the talk that Mr. Pen- 
hall had with Mr. Hoyt before he sent for the com- 
mittee,” volunteered George Penryn. 

Tom shook his head as if in the negative. 

“I think it was the help that the men gave at the 
attempted burning of the breaker,” said Big Bill. 

“I believe that it was the sermon that Rev. Lees 
preached the Sunday before,” said Alice, “for we all 
heard how pointed he had made that sermon, and 
some said that Hoyt thanked Lees afterward for it.” 

Nellie, thus encouraged by the example of Alice, 
chimed in with her opinion, and then the others gave 


BOSS TOM. 


381 


theirs. When nearly all had expressed themselves, 
Tom spoke. 

“I believe that all of they things came in to soften 
Hoyt’s heart toward the men, but I think that back of 
it all was the leading providence of God,” and in this 
opinion, old Dicky, who had not spoken, acquiesced 
with a sage nod of the head. “Ah was,” he said, simply 
and reverentially. 

George Penryn, after the expression of his opinion, 
was entirely engrossed in a little side conversation 
with Alice. Now that George was once more in favor 
with Tom, he was a constant visitor at the Penhall 
home, and very prompt in his attendance upon the 
choir practice at the church. When he called at Tom’s 
home, he generally asked for Mr. Penhall, but whether 
he was home or not, he always stayed and had a chat 
with Alice. All the old fire that had been dormant in 
his heart during the days of the strike, on account of 
the coldness of Tom to himself, was now arising into 
a flame again. Alice, herself, was slowly suspecting 
something that she had scarcely realized before the 
strike. She was gradually coming to understand 
herself, and by that light, George. This evening, 
in their quiet side conversation, he was telling her of 
his future prospects. There was a light in his eyes, 
and also in hers. Tom continued the conversation, 
and then finding that his auditors were all drifting 
into side talks and whisperings, confined his remarks, 
to old Dicky. Old Dicky was complaining of the 
place he had to work in before the strike. 

“Us can’t maake a living theere, Tom, and never cud. 
Us ’as got to shovel the coaal two or three times afore 
us can get un in the car. Ah’s slavish ; the vein doant 
pitch scarcely at all.” 

“ ’Ee shall ’ave a new place, Dicky, and a good one 
at that. ’Ee ’ave been in poor places too long, and the 
best place in the gangway, which will be the third 
breast in the extension, shall be yours.” 

The conversation was still going on in the corner 


382 


BOSS TOM. 


near the organ. George may have been telling a fairy 
tale, for the interest that the organist manifested. 
Tom did not, and never had, suspected a thing of the 
principle back of those conversations, either at his 
own home, or at the church. Simple-hearted soul that 
Tom was, he believed George had always come to the 
house to see him, or to make a friendly call upon the 
home people. Tom forgot the fact that he himself 
was once a youth, forgot the fact that his Allie was no 
longer the child that she was in former years, but a 
full grown, and unusually attractive woman. George, 
to him, was his mine-foreman, the boy that he had, in- 
structed and trained. He felt as a father toward an 
adopted son, but the idea of a son according to law, — 
that had never dawned upon his mind. 

“Do ’ee ’ear, George, give Dicky the third breast 
in the new gangway that they are making. ’E ’as been 
too long in that poor place, and ’e ought to ’ave the 
best place to make up for the poor times of the past.” 
The remark of Tom was a bomb that broke up the 
corner conversation. 

“All right,” said George. 

“We’ll ’ave to go over that hanthem again,” said 
Dicky, arising to his responsibility as a leader. The 
organist was again seated, and the choir members ar- 
ranged themselves in their proper positions, and the 
practice went on until the chorister was satisfied. 
Then there was renewed talk as preparations were 
made to depart to their various homes. In the midst 
of it all, there was the patter of rain, faint at first, and 
then strong and constant, that beat upon the windows, 
and drenched the bare, unwilling trees without, that, 
like resisting lads, tossed their heads and moved their 
arms, seeking to avoid the scrubbing of the elements. 

“There, ah’s raining, and I doant ’ave any umbrella,” 
said Dicky. 

“ ’Ee could ’ave mine, ef it wasn’t for Allie,” re- 
sponded Tom. 


BOSS TOM. 


383 


‘Til see that Alice gets over under mine,” volun- 
teered George. 

“That will make it all right, and Dicky can come 
over to our gate weth me, and then ’e can ’ave my 
umbrella the rest of the way home. I want to talk 
weth ’ee a bit, anyhow, Dicky.” It was Superintend- 
ent Tom who had spoken.. 

“Bill, you must go home with me ; I know that you 
will not let me get wet. Bill is my hero ever since he 
whipped half a dozen Hungarians,” said Nellie Pen- 
ryn gaily. 

Big Bill laughed good naturedly, offered her a part 
of his umbrella, and together they started forth from 
the building. 

“Wasn’t the wedding nice?” asked Nellie, as she 
clung closely to his arm. 

Bill said that he thought that it was, and then to 
help her over a ditch, he must needs put his great 
arm around her, and when upon the other side, the 
arm was not removed. 

“I think that the wedding was nice,” continued 
Bill, “and I think that there will be another that will 
be just as nice, sometime soon.” 

“Oh, Bill, do tell me; who do you think it will be?” 
said Nellie, as she managed, much to Bill’s surprise, 
to smuggle herself out of his encircling arm. 

“Well,” said Bill, a little slowly, “they may be 
George and Alice, and then they may be me and — ” 

“Oh, you and who?” 

“Just me,” said Bill, a little slowly. 

“Oh, but you must have some one to marry,” said 
the girl, “do tell me.” 

“I may sometime,” answered Bill. 

Tom had assisted old Dicky in putting out the lights 
and the younger people had not waited for them. 
The mine-foreman of Number One gave Alice 
half of his umbrella, and together they started across 
the road. The wedding was the absorbing theme, and 
together they chatted about the prospects of their 


384 


BOSS TOM. 


youthful friends. The gate was reached, and they 
went within, and entered the house. Soon came the 
sound of tramping footsteps, and above the constant 
downpour of rain could be heard a voice, rarely heard 
during the strike period, humming the old refrain, — • 

“Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem 
To do de do de do de to do.” 

It was Tom ; something had made him happy, per- 
haps the giving of the best breast to poor old Dicky. 
He entered the parlor, his countenance a contrast to 
the outside inclemency. He divested himself of his 
top-coat, and then proceeded to warm himself by the 
glowing fire. He was called out into the kitchen by 
Mrs. Penhall, who had a keener eye for the last few 
weeks than her husband. Mrs. Penhall whispered 
something to him, that at first seemed to fill him with 
surprise, and then with anger. He refused to be shut 
out of the parlor, however, and went back again, 
though he did not enter much into the conversation. 
George, perceiving that Tom said little, though he 
remained in the room, speedily took his departure. 
Alice wondered what made her father so silent all the 
evening, for even when George had departed, he was 
taciturn, and the joyous look that was upon his fea- 
tures when he entered, had been displaced by moody 
silence. At length, unable to restrain herself any 
longer, she asked him. 

“What is it, father? You have scarcely spoken 
three words all evening. What is the matter? Do 
you feel sick?” 

Her father evaded the question in a clumsy manner 
that made her more suspicious than she was before, 
and she again asked him. Tom was obdurate and 
would give her no satisfaction, and so, at last she was 
constrained to give up the quest, and since it was 
bed-time, she retired. 

Alice out of the way, the restraint to Mrs. Penhall’s 
tongue was gone also. 

“I knew that there was something in the wind for 


BOSS TOM. 


385 


quite a long time, but I didn’t say anything about it 
for fear that I was wrong, but now I’m certain. Why 
has he been coming ’ere so often if there is not some- 
thing like that in his mind?” said Mrs. Penhall to her 
husband. 

“I never thought of it,” said Tom in some irrita- 
tion, “and I think that ah edn’t right, and I won’t 
’ave it.” 

“But George is a good lad, and saved your life at 
the breaker, too,” interjected Mrs. Penhall, “and then 
I think that Allie likes him, too.” 

“I doant care ef ’e did save my life at the breaker! 
To think that ’e ’as been coming ’ere for the purpose 
of taking away Allie. I’ll not ’ave it! I’ll thraw ’im 
out of doors, the next time ’e comes!” said Tom, in 
some wrath. 

“You must remember, Tom, that you were young 
yourself, once, and used to come to see me, and my 
father didn’t throw you out of doors,” said Mrs. 
Penhall. 

“I never used deceit; when I come to see you, they 
all knawed it, and your father knawed it. ’E ’as been 
coming ’ere for quite a time, and I halways supposed 
that he was coming to see me, and ’e wasn’t at all, 
and that was deceit.” 

“No, it isn’t; that is love,” said Mrs. Penhall. 
“Young Mr. Gwynne came for the same purpose.” 

“They are both deceitful rogues, and neither of they 
shall ’ave ’er,” said Tom, with another burst of wrath. 

“Young Gwynne can’t have her, for Alice refused 
him some time ago.” 

“He’s as full of himpudence and deceit as George. 
They are both tarred with the same stick, and none 
of they shall come nigh here any more; they shan’t 
darken the doors,” and Tom brought his fist down 
upon the table in front of him, as if it was the object 
of his wrath. 

“Mr. Gwynne won’t come here any more now, for 
he has left the country.” 


386 


BOSS TOM. 


“And neither shall the other rogue ; I never ’ad such 
trouble in all my life. After all the bother I ’ad a-ed- 
ucating ’e for mine-foreman and getting ’im two good 
positions in the works, this is the way ’e returns the 
favor. ’E comes ’ere trying to steal Allie, and acts 
as deceitful about it as a fox, the rogue, asking to see 
me every time. ’E es an ungrateful rascal, — a hangler’s 
thift.” 

This last term was the highest reproach that existed 
in Tom’s vocabulary. 

There was a change in the treatment of George Pen- 
ryn by the superintendent, and an altered demeanor 
in the latter when he had occasion to speak to his 
mine-foreman of Number One. Tom was oppressed, 
and not the social character that he was formerly, and 
George wondered what new misfortune had arisen 
against him. At church, and at choir practice, the 
superintendent tucked his daughter’s arm under his 
own, when he was returning. But Tom had a harder 
foe to fight. If it was the presence of his mine-fore- 
man alone, he would have easily conquered, but 
another enemy arose that could not be ignored nor 
subdued. Alice began to decline in spirits and health, 
and Tom was on the edge of anxiety. The roses left 
her cheeks, and there was a general air of weariness 
and lassitude. There was that within her heart that 
she half suspected, but it took this treatment of her 
father’s to stir into new life that which he wished to 
crush down. There was no chance of seeing George, 
now, and there was a longing in her heart that she 
could not repress. She would not go to the Penryn 
home, for that would not do. Sometimes a sight at a 
distance would greet her eyes ; a figure in light boots 
and neat mining garb, approaching the office from the 
direction of the slope. It was a compact, manly fig- 
ure. But her father did not wish her to see George, 
it appeared from his manner. So matters dragged on 
until even the hardy opposition and indignation of 
Tom could stand it no longer. There was another 


BOSS TOM. 


387 


conversation between Mr s. Penhall and her husband, 
and Tom gave in to what he thought was the inev- 
itable. 

“I suppose that it doant matter ef I do interfere,” 
said Tom, sadly. “It won’t make much differenced 
At the next choir practice Tom was absent. 

“I doant knaw what us’ll do, without Tom on the 
bass,” said old Dicky, regretfully, “You others will 
’ave to sing a bit stronger ; but doant ’ee baal out and 
thunder, as if there were no one else singing, do ’ee 
’ear?” 

George was not troubled by the absence of Tom. 
He was delighted to have Alice all to himself. 

The language of looks was used there that evening 
in the choir practice, eloquently suggestive of deeper 
thoughts in the breast of George. He was uncon- 
scious of his appearance, but he was not unconscious 
of a sense of elation. Sing ! He would sing the hymns 
and anthems over for a time indefinite, for Tom was 
away, and he had no censor over his looks and words. 
The end of the practice came at last, and then came 
the home-going. 

The parlor was empty that night of all but them- 
selves. Alice was very shy and demure, but as she 
bade him good-night, after a very unprofitable talk, 
upon church music and kindred topics, George realized 
by a single glance in the eyes, soul-searching in them- 
selves, that they had both revealed what it was so 
difficult to say in vocal utterance. 

Old Tom was sad and gloomy that evening, seated 
in the sitting-room with his wife. Alice came to him 
as usual, and pillowed her head upon his breast and' 
asked, in coaxing tones, what ailed him. 

“I doant like to lose my little girl,” he said, as he 
pressed her closer to himself. She hid her face in his 
coat; she knew what ailed her father, and there was 
silence for a time in the sitting-room, unbroken except 
by the steady tick, — tick, — tick, — of the clock. 

“Now go to bed, Allie,” said Tom; but Alice was 


388 


BOSS TOM. 


crying silently upon his coat, and the sight was too 
much for the old man, so he tried to comfort her as 
best he could, though his own heart needed as much 
comfort as any. He had been wrapped up so much in 
this, his only child, that it seemed hard to give her up 
to another. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, father.’’ 

“If you love George, you can have him, Allie.” 

“I don’t want to leave you, father. I couldn’t live 
without you.” 

Tom smoothed down the brown-gold tresses of her 
hair, and tried to laugh and crack a joke at his own 
expense, but it was but a sorry attempt. 

Alice retired with tears in her eyes, and Mrs. Pen- 
hall went off to attend to some work in the kitchen. 
Tom still sat near the sitting-room fire, and gazed 
pensively into the steady, bright glow of the gleaming 
anthracite. There was a subtile attraction in the 
lambent, blue flames. The night was chilly without, 
and, though he was close to the fire, there was a chilly, 
empty sense within the superintendent’s breast. He 
was musing to himself, sometimes half aloud. 

“What would it be like, ef Allie go ; no music and 
no singing. Ef I want to sing a bit I’ll ’ave to tuney 
to myself.” No bright face to greet him, all aglow with 
laughter, when he came home from work. That 
used to make him feel less tired, when he would see 
her all fixed up, neat and tidy, and with a smile upon 
her face. “It will be like burying her,” he said aloud, 
and then he continued. “George es a good foreman, 
and Allie likes he, I suppose. ’E will make a good 
’usband, but ’ow lonely we will be ! It will make the 
’ouse as wished as wishe can be, and I shall feel like 
a frenaid ’pon a gridiron. Ah es too bad. But then, 
ah must come sometime. Can’t expect to keep the 
maid all the time ’ere at ’ome. I do believe that I’m 
getting to be an hold chucklelhead a-worrying about 
it so. It will breaak up the family, though, and all the 
’appy times that we used to ’ave. Ah es too bad that 


BOSS TOM. 


389 


she edn’t a little maid still. ’Ow I used to carry ’er 
’pon my shoulders then ! And ’ow she used to laugh 
and sing ! All our ’appiness will wend up in a brocken 
bubble, when Allie goes !” 

There was silence for a time, the old man having 
ceased his vocal soliloquy. He sat there in silence 
gazing at the leaping flames within the heater; occas- 
ionally his lips moved, but no sound came from them. 
Then again, began the low murmur of his soliloquy. 
“What an old bufflehead I am, a ghastly hold coward, 
to stand in the way of the maid’s ’appiness, and crule, 
unkind in me, too, but yet ah es too bad, to think that 
the little maid, that es the only one, the only lamb of 
the flock, ’as got to go away and — et es like putting ’er 
out of sight altogether, and me and the missis will be 
left ’ere all alone. But then, ah won’t be far some time 
to come yet, and we’ll ’ave summat of ’appiness while 
she’s ’ere. Well, ef ah must be, ah must be.” Tom 
again lapsed into silence, from which he did not arouse 
himself until the coming in of Mrs. Penhall from 
the kitchen. Then, murmuring to himself, he pro- 
ceeded to lock the doors, preparatory to retiring. 


390 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

FESTIVITIES. 

T HERE was the noise of mirth and festivity in 
one of the homes of Quality Row. Janies O’Don- 
nel, the foreman of Number Two, and his wife 
had returned from their wedding trip, and their 
friends had given them a genuine surprise, gathering 
in from all quarters, and bringing gifts of various 
kinds. Peter Dolan had proposed to Mary that she 
and Jimmy should live in the house “beyant the 
Breaker.” Mary indignantly refused to consider for 
a moment the proposition ; they must have a home 
in Quality Row, like the rest of the bosses and offi- 
cials, and so it was that they settled down in their 
home near the residence of Dolan Sr. Their home 
coming was a joyous time, for the whole neighborhood 
had come, resolved to give them a “house-warming.” 
There was Alice Penhall, Bill Smith and his sister, 
Beatrice, Mike Clyde, and Nellie Penryn, and others. 
Alice engaged in conversation with Mary and Nellie, 
while George Penryn talked, now and then, spasmod- 
ically with Big Bill, much to the gratification and 
satisfaction of Mike Clyde. Mike had been thinking 
for quite a time that Beatty would make just as good 
a wife as a sister, and the present occasion but empha- 
sized the thought in his mind. He resolved within 
his heart that he would ask her that very night, if he 
could get a chance, and Bill wasn’t around. Bill 
might object, and that wouldn’t do at all. If Bill 
wouldn’t object he thought it might be of some assis- 
tance to have him “nigh,” to sort of help him get 
through. Be that as it may, he was resolved to try 
that evening; the happiness of Jimmy and Mary, and 


BOSS TOM. 


391 


the sign of a comfortable home that was on all sides 
of him, all was too much for him to stand much longer. 
He had been leading a “dog’s life of it” in the boarding 
houses ever since he had entered the mines, and that 
night should end the matter. 

Big Bill turned his attention from George, whom 
he found pretty dull company ; George was full of his 
own thoughts, and sat silently near by, occasionally 
contemplating Alice, who was conversing with Mary. 

“Just as solemn as an owl,” said Bill to Nellie, “and 
he is just as communicative as that same wise bird; 
I believe I would rather talk with you, Nellie.” 

Nellie understood to whom Bill referred, for 
she had been for some time amusing herself by casting 
roguish glances at Bill, endeavoring to make him 
laugh, which seemed to be an unfailing source of 
delight to her. “He’s talking with Alice in his mind,” 
said Nellie. 

“I say,” said Bill, after the conversation had been 
• fairly started, “I’m going to take you sleigh riding this 
coming winter with a six mule team.” There was a 
general laugh from two or three near by, who had 
overheard Bill’s remark. 

A commotion at the door disturbed the constant 
chatter of the many tongues. The newcomers were Lew 
Wilt, Belle Phillips, Gallagher and wife, Mr. and Mrs. 
Dolan and bringing up the rear, the tall form of the 
Coal and Iron Policeman, Finn. 

“Here, here,” said Finn, in a jovial voice, “if you 
don’t keep less noise, I’ll have to arrest ye all fer dis- 
turbing the peace.” 

“Just you try it,” said Nellie. “Bill is my protector, 
and I don’t care for all the police in the world when 
Bill is around.” 

“I don’t think that I will bother ye,” said Finn, 
with a broad grin upon his face. “If it was any one 
else than Bill I might be tempted to arrest ye both 
fer conspiracy, and then I would give the fellow in the 


392 


BOSS TOM. 


charge of me deputy, and I would arrest ye myself/' 
There was a laugh at this broad joke of Finn. 

Beatty’s attention was here engrossed by Mrs. 
Gallagher, and Clyde heard her, much to his inward 
disgust and anger, telling Beatty what a “foine 
looking fellow that Finn was.” “He would be the 
broth of a bye, fer the likes of ye, Beatty, so tall, and 
so straight, and strong, too, just like yer brother Bill.” 

Clyde turned around looking for some one to talk 
to. “If only old Tom was here, I mean Superintendent 
Tom, we would have the company complete,” he said, 
half aloud. There was a hearty, sound thwack upon 
his back that made his entire frame shake with the 
force of the blow, and turning around, he beheld the 
object of his thoughts. There was the smiling face of 
Boss Tom himself, not quite so jovial as usual, but 
still pleasant, and there beyond him was the figure of 
Mrs. Penhall, talking in a confidential manner with 
Mrs. Dolan. Clyde shook Tom by the hand and with 
the other grasped him by the shoulder. 

“ 'Ere, ’ere, no wrastling, now ; I’m not going to 
let ’ee get no hitch in me, Mike ; I must go over there 
and see Jimmy,” and Tom laughingly extricated him- 
self from the clutches of Clyde, and went across the 
room and took a seat alongside of Jimmy. Clyde 
was not going to have Tom get away in that fashion, 
and so he held up slyly, so that Tom alone could see 
it, a piece of hard tobacco, tempting him to return. 
Tom’s mouth watered and he smiled grimly, and then 
made a sign that he shouldn’t let his daughter see it. 
Alice thought that her father was near to perfect- 
ness, and he would not let her know, for the world, 
that he chewed tobacco. The sight of that tobacco was 
too much for Tom, so after a time he managed to get 
away from Jimmy, and picked his path across the 
room to where was stationed Clyde. But a new diffi- 
culty arose for Clyde. Mrs. Gallagher was through 
talking with Beatty, and the latter turned her atten- 
tion again to the pump-man. The latter was in a quan- 


BOSS T6M. 


393 


dary what to do. He would have liked to have a social 
chat with Tom, and a chew of tobacco ; indeed he had 
already sampled the luscious looking weed, and had a 
liberal supply in his mouth, in anticipation that Tom 
would join him, and that both together, in the kitchen 
or some other handy retreat, could chew and talk to 
their hearts’ content. But now he would like to have 
a talk with Beatty also. Tom was approaching. 
Placing the tobacco in one hand, and concealing it, 
he handed it backward to Tom behind him. The thing 
was done, but more sorrows and difficulties arose for 
Clyde. Beatty just despised a tobacco chewer. To 
smoke, that was respectable, and a man’s privilege, 
but to chew — ugh — that was beastly! Clyde was not 
a graduate in tobacco chewing. He must expector- 
ate. He never noticed it in the works, but here in the 
crowded room of Jimmy O’Donnel’s home, it seemed 
that all the fluids of his body had concentrated in his 
mouth, and there was an unhappy sense of fullness in 
his cheek that made him appear as if afflicted with the 
tooth-ache. Beatty was talking, and Mike was listen- 
ing, but taking no part, much to Beatty’s wonder, ex- 
cept a muttered, “Hummah, hummah,” when an an- 
swer was expected. 

“Aren’t you feeling well, Mr. Clyde?” asked Beatty, 
sympathetically, and in some wonder at the continued 
silence of Clyde. 

“Hum-mah.” 

Would the saliva never cease coming to his cheeks, 
he thought. He was getting red in the face under the 
close scrutiny and sympathy of Beatty. If Beatty 
should ever discover that he used tobacco in that 
form, it was all up for him, and Finn, with the rec- 
ommendation that he had received from Mrs. Gal- 
lagher, would be on the high path for Beatty’s regard. 
Mike was holding his head up higher, like a check- 
reined horse, as the minutes flew by. There wasn’t 
a cuspidor in sight, and he wouldn’t dare to use one 
if there was. 


394 


BOSS TOM. 


“Are you sick, Mr. Clyde, and why do you hold 
your head up like that and say, ‘Hummah, hummah ?’ ” 

Clyde could stand it no longer. Looking down at 
her from the corner of his eye, and holding his mouth 
a trifle nigher heaven, with an agonizing expression of 
face, and a choking voice, he gasped out, “Not — well 
— sick — Beatty.” Then he made a bee-line for the 
door of the kitchen, and then out through the side 
entrance. Beatty was following him when he re- 
turned, having relieved himself of that full sensation 
in the mouth. To Beatty’s expressions of sympathy, 
he returned a careless reply, that the air was too close, 
and he needed a whiff of the outside atmosphere. 

“I’m feeling all right now,” he added, thinking all 
the while, to himself that “he would be hanged” if 
he would ever be caught in a crowded house again 
with tobacco inside his lips. 

Mike had something in his mouth afterward. It 
was cloves, but they did not discommode him. 
Seated near Beatty, he was telling her what a notor- 
ious tobacco chewer Policeman Finn was. It was 
one of his big drawbacks, he said. 

There was the sound of music without that com- 
pletely silenced all conversation, with its blaring 
noise. It was the Mayoton Cornet Band, a dignified 
name for a small organization. It had come to ser- 
enade the mine foreman and his wife. The evening 
passed away in games of one sort and another, and 
towards the close, the parties, in various groups, 
drifted homewards. 

Together, under the gentle moonlight, a couple 
wended their way with thoughts not of others, rather 
entirely engrossed in themselves. The cold, crisp air 
around them did not chill the cupid god within. 
Although it was December, the snow had not yet 
arrived. Was it the cold, crisp air, or was it some- 
thing else, that deepened the hue of the maiden’s 
cheek? 

“This is an ideal night,” remarked the man. 


BOSS TOM. 


395 


“Yes,” answered the girl; “don’t you think that they 
are a nice couple, and well suited to each other?” 

“Yes, but I can tell you of a couple that I think are 
just as well suited to each other, and I am going to 
tell you about, them now.” 

The girl’s hand trembled a little upon the arm of the 
sturdy young fellow, and there was a warmth in his 
tone as he began. 

“Years ago, there was a poor little lad, that had no 
education to boast of. His parents were poor, and had 
not the means to give him an education, and he was 
taken from school, after a very meagre attendance, 
and sent to work in the breaker, to augment the house- 
hold earnings. He served in his humble position as 
well as his ability could make him serve, and then 
larger positions opened to him. In the midst of his 
off-time, he noticed a little girl, flaxen-haired, just like 
a little cherub she seemed. His home was a very 
poor home. The little cherub’s home was larger, and, 
to the boy’s imagination, seemed a veritable palace, 
and the grounds around as spacious and beautiful as 
a paradise. He would often linger near the gate in the 
summer evenings, and watch the child at play amidst 
the flowers of the garden. Her father, a kind man, 
and good, seemed a king to this lad who knew nothing 
of the world. At times, he would speak cheeringly 
to the boy, and the little fellow would feel exceedingly 
elated at the honor. The little girl was the counter- 
part of her father. Noticing the lad looking eagerly 
through the pickets, she offered him a belated rose, 
that her childish fingers had plucked from its parent 
bush. There was a shy smile upon her face, and then 
she ran away to be caught up in the arms of her big 
father, who was coming around the house.” 

The girl’s arm shook a little, and the color in her 
cheek deepened under the pale moonbeams. She well 
remembered that scene, for it was one of the early 
things of her childhood. 

“That rose,” continued he, “was the starting of a 


396 


BOSS TOM. 


new life to the boy. 'She is a beautiful little maid,’ he 
said to himself. 

“Then there was a time that the little girl’s father 
called the lad to him, and made him a proposition to 
educate him, so that he could gain some position in 
life a little better than an ordinary laborer. The lad 
loved the little girl, though he did not know it, neither 
did she. Then, there came a time when darkness 
came, and an insane fit of jealousy, and then the lad 
formed a great resolution ; to become as well educated 
as any of the lady’s suitors, for about that time, they 
had both grown up to mature years. He was diligent, 
and worked on with that ultimate object in view. She, 
the little cherub of younger years, and the mature 
woman of later times, was the star of his life and the 
goal of all his ambitions. She was the image of his 
waking thoughts, and the central vision of his dreams. 
Then came the clouds. The clouds always come in life. 
The young man was accused of dishonesty, and 
although he was as honest as the day, yet suspicion 
fell upon him, and a chill came between him and the 
family of the girl. But he labored on, and the great 
hope that was in him made him bear up under all 
shadows. Hope brought an end to the shadows, and 
the youth became the holder of an honored position 
in this neighborhood, and then one evening in the cold 
December, under the moonlight, he was walking 
homewards with the girl of his choice, and he thought 
he would tell her and end all his doubts, and — Alice, — 
Alice, don’t you see that I am telling you the story of 
my own life, and you are the cherub of that younger 
period, and now you know the whole story, and it is 
for you to say whether the bright dream of the lad will 
be but an empty fiction or a reality.” 

The young man ceased, and there was silence for 
a moment. The moon came out from behind a wan- 
dering cloud, and shed a gentle, pellucid effulgence 
that seemed to add new beauty to the old, old story 
that was once more being told. 


BOSS TOM. 


397 


“I have always loved you, George, — though I didn’t 
know it until lately,” was the simple answer that came 
to his question. 

They were married on New Year’s Day, George and 
Alice, and after a short wedding tour, settled down 
in the town of Mayoton. Old Tom was disconsolate 
for a time, but there was a fertile plan working in his 
mind that was to solve his difficulties and obviate the 
sadness of parting with his daughter. 


I 


398 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XL. 

SUNSHINE. 

M R. ARTHUR Hoyt was seated in his study. 
Near him, on the large rug, lay the form of his 
favorite mastiff, Cassar. Not far away, seated 
at a small walnut desk, was Mrs. Grace Hoyt, writing 
a letter. There was a pleased expression on the coun- 
tenance of the operator, and he was apparently ab- 
sorbed in happy meditation, as he watched the faint, 
curling spiral of tobacco smoke from his fragrant 
Havana. 

“Grace.” 

His wife paused for a moment, and the swift mo- 
tion of the pen was stilled. The great dog, Caesar, 
opened one eye, lazily, towards his master, as if he was 
an interested auditor. 

“Grace, I was thinking that after all you were right 
in your estimation of Mr. Gwynne and the miners. 
It pays better, after all, to consider the workmen and 
their interests in the running of a colliery. There are 
not so large immediate profits, apparently, but in the 
long run it amounts to the same. I lost, by the incum- 
bency of Mr. Gwynne, more than he made out of the 
mine over and beyond what his predecessor made ; 
and then it is much more preferable to have an easy 
conscience in the matter.” 

“Yes,” said Grace, with a smile. 

“I notice now that even the foreigners meet me with 
cheerful faces, and all of them tip their hats to me 
when I pass them, and that is more pleasant than the 
scowls and the angry looks that they used to bestow 
upon me.” 


BOSS TOM. 


399 


“An approving conscience is much better than extra 
profit, no matter how much the amount may be; I 
knew, Arthur, all the time of the strike, and even 
before, that your conscience did not approve of the 
things that were enacted at the works. — Now my 
Arthur is himself again.” 

Mr. Hoyt smiled, and then continued : “I was 
thinking that the Golden Rule is the better after all. 
If all operators would deal with their men fairly and 
justly, they would be easier in mind, and I don’t think 
in the long run they would suffer in the profits. One 
has no strikes to contend with, no property de- 
stroyed, no idle times, which are a loss to the em- 
ployer as well as to the men, and beyond all, one has 
the respect of his fellow-citizens, the love of 
his employes, and the satisfaction that he is doing as 
God would have him do. The men don’t want to run 
the works. They only want justice. Now, let’s see, 
Grace; suppose you make a little account there, and 
see how the thing stands.” 

Grace took up the pen and did as requested. 

“Put down, on the one side of the account, the extra 
profits that Mr. Gwynne made out of the mine, — and 
you may put down the extra profits that Mr. Brown 
made, but Brown couldn’t touch Gwynne in the line 
of profits. Let see, — Gwynne was in office about 
fifteen months. In that time he made out of the works 
about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars beyond 
what was made formerly. Superintendent Brown, for 
the same period, made extra and beyond what he 
should have made, about eighty thousand dollars.” 

“Don’t you think that they made more than that?” 
asked Grace. 

“I mean what they made more than was a right 
profit in the work. Mr. Gwynne did not make as much 
as he thought he could, because for several months he 
had to put his plans in operation gradually; I am 
taking the average excess profits,” 


400 


BOSS TOM. 


“Very well,” said Grace, and she wrote as directed. 
Mr. Hoyt continued to dictate, and when he had 
finished, Grace handed him the following account. 

Profits. Loss. 

Extra profits of Mr. Gwynne for 

15 months $150,000 

Extra profits of Mr. Brown for 

same period 80,000 

Lost by the strike, one breaker 

and other damages $155,000 

Lost interest on money invested 
at Mayoton and the Meadow 

mine .. .. 90,000 

Wages of deputies, bosses and 

officials during strike 20,000 

Excess wages of Gwynne above 
that of McCue before the strike 1,200 


Total $230,000 $266,200 

Plus the hate of the men and a bad conscience. 

Mr. Hoyt looked at the account for a minute or two, 
seriously, and then said: “Honesty and justice is 
the best policy after all, Grace.” 

Caesar, the large mastiff, shut his eye lazily, 
stretched himself, and then prepared for another nap, 
as if the matter was settled beyond a doubt. 

Old Tom Penhall felt very lonely after the depart- 
ure of his daughter. He missed the cheery counte- 
nance of Alice, and the presence of the piano. When 
he wished to sing, it did not seem like the old times. 
In the evenings there was only the face of his wife, 
and how strange and empty the table appeared! The 
parlor looked so desolate and vacant without the 
piano, and the merry songs. He would go in occas- 
ionally and look around and then come back to the 
sitting-room and silently sit at his desk, or before the 
fire. Mrs. Penhall would keep him company, but the 


BOSS TOM. 


401 


constant click of her knitting needles annoyed the old 
man and made him still moodier. 

'‘Ah do seem lonely, ’Liza,” he said to his wife, a 
short time after the return of George and Alice. Tom 
and his wife were seated in the sitting-room. “Ah do 
seem lonely, and I doant think that I’m going to stand 
it much longer. There when I want to tuney a bit, 
I doant ’ave no music, and they both must come back. 
They can live ’ere with us as well as in a ’ouse of their 
own.” 

Mrs. Penhall acquiesced, but when the proposition 
was made to Alice, there was some objection. The 
house was too small to accommodate both. But Tom 
soon settled the matter by planning a new, spacious 
house at the head of Quality Row. Where was the 
money to come from? Tom chuckled in answer to the 
question. That was his concern. The plans were 
drawn up and approved, and the work pushed with 
unabated vigor. The following spring the home was 
ready for use. There was quite a contention in the 
furnishing of the young people’s apartments. Tom 
insisted upon the predominance of red color. “Rud is 
a cheerful color,” he constantly averred, and George 
and Alice gave in to his opinion. There was red 
figured carpets, red figured wall paper, and to use 
George’s expression, the house would have looked 
like the “British banner flung to the breeze,” if, with 
the taste and nicety of a woman, the colors had not 
been arranged by Alice to her satisfaction, subduing 
the garish effect that Tom’s opinion unmodified would 
have caused. 

Tom made a good superintendent, but the work, 
becoming too arduous for him, George was promoted 
to the Assistant Superintendent’s position, Moore 
having resigned. In Tom’s working the mines of 
Mayoton, he always treated with the Organization 
of the miners, which was still alive. The latter was 
not nearly as flourishing as formerly, however. The 
miners found that with the just operator and a good 


402 


BOSS TOM. 


honorable superintendent, they had little occas- 
ion for an organization, and it was gradually dying of 
inaction. Tom always consulted the interests of the 
men, even after the Organization had become a thing 
of the past. “The miners are honest fellows, and talk- 
ing the matter over weth they, shows that they are 
reasonable,” he often said. 

Lew Wilt, the clerk, still held his position, and in 
time, married Belle Phillips, who made him a 
good helpmeet, for the strike had made a more sen- 
sible and practical girl of her. 

Mike Clyde, the pump-man, still frequented Big 
Bill’s house, and once, when Bill was not around, and 
he had sampled an extra fine piece of Beatty’s pie, 
he could stand it no longer. With a mouth partly 
filled with the luscious sweetmeat, grasping her hand 
with his disengaged one, he told her in language sim- 
ilar to the noted “Barkis” that he was willing, and 
that he wanted her to bake him pies all his life, to 
which Beatty, blushing a bright crimson, did not 
object, “but what would brother Bill do?” 

“Oh, Bill, he can live with us,” stoutly asserted 
Mike, for he was bold, now that the Rubicon was 
passed. 

Brother Bill had other plans. That same evening 
he took Nellie Penryn home from the choir practice, 
and before he parted from her, he asked her whether 
he could be her hero for life. 

“Nellie, you have often called me your hero and 
protector, would you like to have it so all the time?” 
he asked at the gate. 

And dark-eyed, curly-haired Nellie, now a woman 
grown, looked up into the honest, flushed countenance 
of Big Bill, whose head seemed so far above her. 
“Bill, how do you expect me to tell you anything 
when you keep your head so high up in the air?” 

Bill bowed his great form until his head came upon 
a level with the countenance below him, and repeated 
the question. “Would you like to have me always as 


BOSS TOM. 


403 


your hero and protector, Nellie ?” Bill’s eyes were 
so solemn and sincere, and his big face naturally red, 
flushed so painfully, that Nellie could not joke with 
him or tease him, and so she simply and demurely 
answered, “Bill, you know I would.” Big Bill laughed, 
— a hearty, joyous laugh, — and gathering her up in 
his great arms like a child, pressed a kiss upon her lips. 

“And we will have a house of our own, and a horse 
and carriage, Nellie.” 

“And not a mule?” said Nellie. 

Bill went off into another peal of laughter. 

“Oh, Bill, put me down!” 

“How do you think that I’m going to talk with you 
away down there? It’s too hard on a man to juke his 
head down like a fish-hook,” said Bill. 

“Do put me down, Bill!” 

There was the noise of an opening door, and Penryn 
Sr., attracted by Bill’s laugh, no doubt, stood upon 
the threshold. Bill quickly obeyed Nellie’s command. 


404 


BOSS TOM. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

IN AFTER YEARS. 

Y OU know him, Tony?” 

The speaker was one of two Italians who were 
seated upon a log near the roadside. It was June- 
tide, and the piney hills had taken upon themselves 
once again their spring garments. Mayoton was like 
the Eternal City, changing some, but still living on. 
Some years had passed, but every spring found the 
same garments for the surrounding hills, robes of 
green, and ribbons, dots, patches of variegated honey- 
suckles, rhododendron, and wild rose blossoms. The 
small common in front of Quality Row and the gar- 
dens as spacious as of old time, were carpeted with 
luxuriant green, and the trees of the woods opposite 
were rustling with new foliage. At the head of Qual- 
ity Row stood a new and somewhat larger house 
than the others. Opposite this home, seated on a 
fallen log, in the corner of the woods, were the two 
Italians above mentioned. 

“You know him, Tony?” repeated the one. 
“Ricordo? Yes, that de padre, Tom.” 

These remarks were concerning an aged man with 
pleasant features in the garden opposite. He was 
playing, like a lad of twelve, with a child between 
three and four years of age, — playing hide-and-seek 
among the trees of the garden. Mrs. Penhall, her hair 
nearly white, was seated upon the veranda, as were 
also two others — a tall, stout, dark-haired man, Assist- 
tant Superintendent Penryn, and his wife, Alice. The 
assistant superintendent had matured in years into a 
broad shouldered man, with the same dark, curly hair, 
and the “eyes of a pirate,” now softened and more 


BOSS TOM. 


405 


steady than of old. Alice, of the gold-brown hair, 
though losing some of the joyousness of youth, had 
gained sweet womanly dignity in the passing years. 
They were all following, with pleasant interested 
looks, the antics of the child and grandsire on the 
lawn. 

“Yes,” said the Italian addressed as Tony, who 
though older than formerly, still had the deep olive 
complexion and general appearance of the mule driver 
of former times, Tony Luccaque. “Yes, that old Tom. 
Him good boss ; now him de big boss. Him no cheat 
noone. Him goa to God right away when him die. 
That him girl on de porch. Oder man, George, — him 
drive mule with me in mine when a boy. Him big 
striker ona time, but now him next to big Boss Tom.” 

Two persons were seen approaching the gate, a tall 
gentleman with an unmistakable, good-natured Irish 
face, and with him a tall, graceful-looking, dark-haired 
woman. Time had dealt kindly with Jimmy and Mary, 
for with the exception of more matured looks, they 
were unchanged. Jimmy, or James, as he was some- 
times called, still had some of the old boyish freckles 
hidden by a great black mustache, that added some new 
dignity to his appearance. Mary was more sedate 
than of old. The gate slowly swung open and then 
came a voice, merry, yet graver and deeper than of 
former times. 

“Here you are, Tom Jr. Would you like an 
orange ?” 

The child, addressed as Tom Jr., signified his ac- 
ceptance by running eagerly toward the newcomers, 
and having received the golden-hued fruit, promptly 
turned around and gave it to Superintendent Tom. 

“Ah, that’s a good boy, so ’e es ; but never mind, 
you keep un,” and Tom gave back the orange to the 
lad. 

“Now, give me a kiss,” said the woman to the child. 
The child turned up its little lips and received the kiss 


406 


BOSS TOM. 


hastily, and then turned its lips to the testing of the 
value of the fruit. 

'‘You’ll spoil that child,” said the deep voice of 
George from the veranda. 

“Can’t do that,” said the tall fellow, “he’s a chip 
of the old block.” 

Old Tom laughed, a hearty, merry peal of laughter. 

“You know them, Tony?” asked Tony’s companion. 
“Yes, that tall man, Jimmy. Him boss Number Two 
slope. Her him’s wife. Jimmy and George good 
friends. They drive mules lika me ona time. They 
strikers — big strikers.” 

“Strikers?” 

“Yes, big strikers; no work, just the same as me. 
Now, they bosses.” 

“And who that, Tony?” 

The Italian drew the attention to some new parties 
approaching Tom’s gate. They were five in all. The 
first person was a man of herculean proportions, tall, 
and heavily proportioned. A wealth of red whiskers 
adorned his chin, and rivaled the florid hue of’ his 
large face. Beside him was a lady, evidently his wife, 
a woman with dark, black eyes, and hair so rebel- 
liously curly as scarcely to be restrained by the Psyche 
knot pendant beneath the rear of her tasty hat. There 
was the faintest suspicion of a smile lurking at the 
angles of her mouth, a smile — the remnant of the joy- 
ous laugh of eighteen, which, with the roguish look 
of that time, had been so fascinating to a certain big 
fellow. The lady was leading a little girl of the same 
merry face, laughing, dark eyes, and curling locks, as 
she herself possessed, when a child. They were talk- 
ing, and the big red-whiskered fellow had a broad 
smile upon his features as they caught sight of Super- 
intendent Tom, and his antics with the child. 

“Oh, there’s cousin Tom, mother,” said the child, 
and dropping her mother’s hand, she ran forward to 
greet the little lad in the garden. 

Behind these parties came a tall, good-natured 


BOSS TOM. 


407 


looking man, with sandy hair, and a jolly, contented 
expression upon his features, and a lady of goodly 
proportions, with features closely resembling the 
gentleman of the red beard. Hers was a comfortable, 
house-wifely face, a countenance, fair, full, and mat- 
ronly, and the roses had seemingly perpetuated them- 
selves, not only in her cheeks, but over her whole face. 
The sandy-haired man, her husband, wore a blonde- 
reddish mustache, that concealed the happy expres- 
sion that lingered around the corners of his mouth. 

“And who that, Tony?” repeated the Italian to his 
companion. 

“Oh,” said Tony, “that first man, him Big Bill. 
You know him; I teha you about him sometime ago. 
Him look nice and him laugh like the big whistle that 
blow at quitting time. Him look nice, but him fight 
right away. Him fight like diavolo! Him fight big 
Italian, — nearly killa de Italian. That back in the 
strike. You remember I tella about him. Him take 
up big Italian above his head lika this,” and Tony held 
up his two hands above his head to illustrate to his 
companion Big Bill’s prowess. “Ricordo?” 

His companion nodded his head, signifying that he 
remembered Tony’s relating the incident before. 

“Well,” continued Tony, “him the big boss engineer 
now. Him de engineer before, now him de big en- 
gineer boss.” 

“What for woman?” 

“That him wife,” answered Tony, and then he 
laughed. “Her hold up a little finger lika that,” and 
Tony held up his little finger, “him all the same lika 
little dog.” 

“Him ’fraid for her,” suggested Tony’s companion. 

“I no know. — No, Bill ’fraid for nothing; him fight 
devil.” 

“Who for next man ?” 

“That pump-man, Mike. Him good fellow, always 
laugh. Him and old Tom and Big Bill good butties. 
That woman, him’s wife ; she’s Bill’s sister.” 


408 


BOSS TOM. 


The parties entered the gate. 

“Here, Aunt Nell!” cried Tom Jr., and he ran 
with outstretched arms toward the newcomers. Bill 
picked up the youngster and rubbed his beard in his 
face. Then Clyde picked up the child, and placing 
him upon his shoulder, pranced around the lawn like 
a spring colt. 

“Here, you catch him, Tom,” said Clyde, and forth- 
with he set the child down and started him toward 
Superintendent Tom, who caught him in his arms 
and carried him up to his mother, Alice, the pleasant 
woman, with the smooth, white forehead, and rippling 
brown-gold hair. 

“He’s the same colored hair and eyes as his mother 
’ad when she was a baby,” said Tom. 

“I think he is just the picture of you, Tom,” said 
Big Bill. Tom’s eyes glistened with pleasure as he 
gave the newcomers seats upon the veranda. “Ay, 
he’s a good boy, and maybe ’e does look something like 
’is grand-pap.” 

“Come ’ere, little dear,” said Mrs. Penhall to Nellie’s 
little girl, the dark-eyed little Miss beside her mother. 

“Go on, Nellie,” said her mother in answer to the 
child’s inquiring glance, and the little maiden tip-toed 
over to Mrs. Penhall, to be gathered up in the latter’s 
motherly arms. Tom Jr., also stood alongside of his 
grandmother. ’Liza, Mrs. Penhall, neat and prim, her 
grey-white hair arranged in bands as of olden time, 
had lost a little of her sharp quickness of speech, or 
perhaps she never used it toward children, for she 
talked to them both in gentle tones, like an old mother 
hen speaking to her little ones. 

“Pm glad that you are hall ’ere, for I wanted to talk 
a-bit with ’ee about a thing that I ’ave been thinking 
about for some years,” said Tom to the assembled 
group upon the veranda. 

“All right,” said Bill, “let’s hear it. It must be 
something good, or you wouldn’t be back of it, Tom.” 

“I ’ave been a-tawking weth Hoyt about putting 


BOSS TOM. 


409 


up a school ’ere, say over there among the trees, far 
those that want to learn the science of mining and 
other studies — a sort of a — what do ’ee call it, 
George?” and the old superintendent turned to his 
son-in-law for the word that he wanted. 

“An academy of Mining Science and Polytechnic 
Institute,” said George. 

“Yes, that’s it. A Cademe for mining students and 
Poly what ’ee call it — school.” 

George smiled and Tom laughed. 

“It doant matter much about the name,” the latter 
added. 

“But where are you going to get the money from, 
father?” asked Alice, seriously. 

Old Tom smiled, and then responded: “Well, I 
suppose that I ought to tell ’ee, for ah come to me 
some time ago, some years ago, after a good bit of 
waiting, and only ’Liza and I knawed anything about 
it. To make a long story short, my uncle Tom, my 
faather’s brother, had a bit of property and money in 
the old country. ’E never married, and I remember 
that ’e used to live on the place nigh the Mount’s Bay, 
near Penzance, The place was overlooking the bay, 
and I used to like to go there and sit on the cliffs, over- 
looking the water. It was a heartsome place, and I 
used to go there often. Faather and he were good 
enough friends afore faather got married. There was 
a maid, or summat like that, that stirred up a fuss 
atween them. I think they both liked the same maid. 
She was a fine looking woman, summat like Allie, 
there. That’s ’er picter, Allie, that ’ee often see in 
there on the mantle-piece,” and Tom pointed with his 
thumb over his shoulder toward the parlor. 

“Grandmother?” said Alice. 

“Ay, she was your grandmother, and my mother. 
Well, when faather married ’er, for she seemed to like 
’im better than she did my uncle Tom, there was a 
great quarrel atween ’im and faather, and they never 
spoke. When I come to years, that I could run 


410 


BOSS TOM. 


around, I used to go over there at times, like a lad will 
do, — running around ’ere and there. Once I was down 
’pon the sands, and the tide come in and cut me off 
from the shore afore I knawed it. I shud ’ave been 
drowned, perhaps, and was crying, to think that I shud 
not get back ’ome again. Then I remember a shout on 
the mainland, and a great man come wading out 
through the water that was up nigh to ’is shoulders 
in the deepest place. ‘Bless the child, what are ’ee 
doing ’ere?’ he said, and with that he looked at me a 
bit, startled-like, and asked trembly-like, ‘and whose 
lad are ’ee?’ I told ’im faather’s name, and I ’eard ’im 
saying to ’imself, ‘ ’Er lad, and weth ’er ’air and eyes, 
too,’ with that he took me up and placed me a-top of 
his shoulders and carried me over to the shore, and 
took me up to ’is place and gave me bits of cake to eat, 
and then took me within sight of ’ome and let me 
down and said, ‘There, run along, now, my little man/ 

“When I got ’ome I told all about it, and I ’eard 
faather say summat about his brother Tom being 
kind-hearted after all. I used to go over to Uncle 
Tom’s quite often after that, and ’e used to like to ’ave 
me come, and seemed quite fond of me, although 
faather never went along. To make a long story 
short, my Uncle Tom, died a short time a-fore the 
strike, and I received word that all that ’e ’ad, ’e ’ad 
willed to me. It amounted to nigh twelve thousand 
pounds, but they rascally lawyers got a good bit of 
un a-fore ah come to my ’ands. I ’ave ’ad it out on 
hinterest since ah come to me, but it seemed a pity to 
’ave so much money doing nothing but making more 
money for me, so I talked the matter over weth 
Hoyt. We ’ave enough laid by now to do for ’Liza 
and me, and also for George and Allie, and so we 
doant need more than part of the money that Uncle 
Tom left me. 

“We thought that we could put up a school weth a 
part of the money, and ’ave it so that any poor boy 
that wanted to get a ’igher education than one could 


BOSS TOM. 


411 


get in the common schools, could ’ave it free of charge. 
Operator Hoyt said that he would put a bit of money 
to what I would give, and we could ’ave a fine school.” 

Tom ceased speaking. The listeners had been very 
attentive during the recital of the story, and there 
were murmurs of surprise, for Tom had kept his good 
fortune a close secret. George and Jimmy, realizing 
the great difficulties that they had had in gaining an 
education, were heartily in favor of the plan, as also 
were the others present. Clyde was carried away 
with a burst of admiration for Superintendent Tom 
and his generosity. 

‘‘It’s a good thing for Mayoton, that we have as 
good a man for superintendent as you, Tom. There’s 
this plan of yours for the school, and the way you treat 
the miners, so that we all have good times and decent 
wages. There’s the miners, — all happy and comfort- 
able. Some are now able to build their own homes. 
There’s old Dicky Curnow, that has a pretty nice 
home, and there’s your father, George, that has that 
nice white house with the green shutters, among the 
trees, and there’s even Ned Thomas a-saving up money 
unknown to his wife, and there’s our own home, eh 
Beatty, the one that you were telling me about years 
ago, and that we now have,” and Mike pinched, play- 
fully, Beatty’s cheek. “It’s all through your just 
management, Tom,” added Mike. 

“It’s due to the kind-heartedness of Hoyt, too, in 
allowing Tom to run the works so justly,” said George. 

There was a pause, and then Tom spoke, reverently. 
“It’s due to God, lads, as much as anybody, and now 
let’s go inside and ’ave a tune.” 

The superintendent leading the way, they filed into 
the parlor, and soon the Italians seated on a log by the 
road-side, heard a song that Tony well remembered, 
and in which the well known voices of Tom and the 
others were heard. 

“Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem, 

Washed in the blood of the Lamb.” 


412 


BOSS TOM. 


And so the Institute was established. Operator 
Hoyt gave a considerable sum, but insisted that the 
Academy should be known by the name of the “Pen- 
hall Institute,” but the lads and breaker boys, to this 
day, call it by a far more endearing name, — 


“OLD BOSS TOM’S SCHOOL/' 














































































































































































































































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